Intervals
by Kavan
Summary: Mary's search for happiness after she ends her marriage to Henry Talbot. Chapter three March 1928 is up.
1. Chapter 1

**Intervals**

So after watching the s6 finale I was so enraged at how badly Mary's character was absolutely trashed that I began to write… This fic encompasses the years 1927-1930-beginning in 1930 with Mary looking backward. Each chapter will cover one year and close on New Year's Eve. I am really curious to see what you think of this idea and feed back will get a cup of New Year's Eve punch.

 **.~.~.~.~.**

 **New Year's Eve 1930-Downton Abbey**

Mary did not know what possessed her to leave the warmth and merry making of the gathering inside to step out onto the terrace and into the raw December night. Actually she did. It was New Year's Eve, and it was snowing, and somehow the holiday had become more than their actual anniversary or his birthday, the day when her thoughts most often turned to Matthew.

They had endured a string of green Christmas', but this year the snow had begun on December 23rd and still remained thick on the ground. That afternoon around dusk the showers had begun again. And somehow the elixir of snow and the date had turned her mind to her first husband.

They only had a single New Year's Eve as a married couple. She had been pregnant with George and the first months had been full of nausea, and she had been so violently ill that evening. Matthew had been his usual dear self-giving up merrymaking -donning pajamas and joining her in bed. But she had thought vaguely how pleasant New Year's Eve 1921 would be. Perhaps she thought she and Matthew could spend the night in London. She had envisioned them in a smoky nightclub, dancing, toasting the New Year and one another. She only wanted to get through the confinement, and that evening had seemed an utter waste. Later she would think how foolish she had been squandering a single evening with her husband. Later she would have given literally anything to simply have another moment with him no matter what her condition. Then for a time she had been angry with him- his foolish excitement and incautious driving had cost them decades together. Then for a long time she had tried not to think of Matthew at all.

She had filled her days with pigs, sheep, and suitors. She had gone around making ridiculous protestations about being as happy in her second marriage as in her first. She had dragged Tony to Liverpool for some ridiculous testing out, letting him think that his bedroom performance had been wanting, when in actuality it had been that somehow he could not force Matthew out of her brain whenever they left the bed. She had flirted with Charles Blake, but had been relieved when he had to go off to Poland. She had liked Charles well enough in a genial pleasant way, but he did not draw out any real feeling beyond friendship. She'd sent both men away and barely thought of them afterward.

By the time Henry Talbot came she was desperate to feel anything, and she certainly did feel some things, but she wasn't sure they were the right things. Then she'd acted so rashly and hurt Edith, and the family was so sure Henry would calm her. And she wanted to be calm, and loved, and happy. She wanted to find love again. So she married. And she had learned that a wedding band could feel like a shackle that it brought not the expected happiness, but a special brand of misery, and she wanted to laugh bitterly at her childish delusions.

The next months were a time of dissolution, and reckoning, and finally acceptance. She was never, ever going to find another love like what she'd shared with Matthew. She was sentenced to a lonely existence, and after how she'd hurt Tony, and Charles, and Edith, and poor Marigold, and the mess she'd made with Henry maybe that was really what she deserved. She'd raise George on her own, run Downton, and find a way to accept her lonely life.

Reaching down she touched her thumb to the golden band that rested on her third finger. The gesture was hardly accidental. The thought of her previous mistakes, and her acceptance of a lonely life, made her desperate to touch the metal, needing that reminder she would not live that feared life. She was again happily married. Over the last week there had been a dozen times she'd glanced down surprised to see that band resting on her finger. Though she'd worn it only a week, already she could tell it was no shackle. Earlier tonight she'd glanced across the table and saw the glint of her husband's ring, thinking with an atypical pride, "That is my husband."

It felt almost obscene to imagine that the interval, the time between Matthew's death and a week ago was a time of learning. For years it had seemed a time of blackness and sorrow. And at one of the darker periods the time after she'd accepted she could not love Henry, the time she had given up on finding a love, and yet she had already met the man who had slipped that band on her finger a week ago in Lady Merton's drawing room. And perhaps that time between letting Henry go, and claiming her husband was part of a period of growing and evolving allowing her, well both of them to find happiness. Standing in the snow mourning the loss of one husband she could not help contemplating the other's emergence in her life and that they were very almost uncomfortably similar felt a bit fated…..

 **.~.~.~.~.**

 **December 1927**

Henry stood before the motorcar one hand gripping his sole piece of luggage. He turned toward Mary arguing, "Darling it's not too late, we really don't have to do this. I can call the solicitor in the morning…."

Mary wordlessly shook her head, wanting to avoid a hasty response. At last she replied, "I think not."

"Mary," He insisted sounding oddly petulant. This did not surprise her. Henry Talbot she had quickly learned was a petulant man. "You really must be reasonable there is no need to take this step."

"I am not being unreasonable." She insisted firmly. Whenever she disagreed with him with him, Henry declared her unreasonable often in the most churlish tones. "I am being the very sole of reason. We are not well suited, we are not happy, and we should not go on making a pretense otherwise."

"I'm not seeing other women," Henry protested hotly.

Mary fought against the anger rising within her, determined to retain her calm. "I did not believe that to be a problem."

Henry sighed as if slightly bored with the discussion before acknowledging, "I know I haven't spent as much time with George as you'd like. I know I complained about the sheep and pig talk…"

"And I didn't attend enough of your races, and I grew bored at every talk about new sparkplugs." Mary shook her head reiterating, "We aren't well suited."

"You are speaking as if we never had a moment of happiness."

"We have." Mary granted tiredly. "I suppose this would be easier if we'd never found a happy moment together."

"If not's easy then why?" They had talked, and talked, and still he could not understand her rationale.

Mary felt suddenly exhausted, "Henry we've been married two years and you seem as oblivious to my unhappiness as I am to your proclaimed happiness." She shook her head frustrated at having to again explain her decision, "I am simply tired. I am tired of pretending to feel a love that I'm not sure I ever truly felt."

Henry looked mildly stricken, favoring Tiaa the few times she got a spanking. "But you said…"

"We have had happy times," Mary agreed lest he take the argument down that road. "But not for a long while, and not enough to make me believe either of us can truly claim to be happy together, let alone a happily married couple."

"Darling," Henry besieged stepping closer to her. "Can't you see, all couples go through rough patches. If you'd been married to Matthew a little longer…."

Mary felt her spine stiffen and her words were cold as she replied, "Do not ever compare our marriage to what I shared with Matthew."

Henry rolled his eyes saying, "Oh I forget we all must never forget perfect, perfect Matthew."

At such times Mary would almost shudder that she had married this man. That a man she had married could have such contempt for her late husband. Unwilling to allow him to see her hurt she stated, "He was not perfect, but he was kind, and we were happy."

"And we cannot be because you will not allow it." Henry declared sounding more peevish than moved. "I've warned you before I will make it difficult to leave me behind."

Mary stepped back saying, "And when you told me that I should have known we'd never find happiness together. I wanted to wish you well, and wanted you to have a happy life, and you wanted to make me unhappy and cause me to question my decisions." She shook her head before saying in a resolved tone, "Goodbye Henry. I'll have my solicitor contact you." She turned and walked toward Downton not giving him a further glance.

 **.~.~.~.~.**

Watching Mary turn toward the house, Tom Branson stepped away from the window, strolling toward the library. Tom had never been nosy, and he was decidedly against spying on private moments. But he was going to make certain Mary had his support, even if it meant fisticuffs with a man he considered a more than a friend.

Truth be known he'd been watching them a lot longer than they knew, and for months he had not liked what he had seen. For the last ten, twelve months he'd seen the Talbots careening ever closer to disaster. Oh he'd tried to convince himself they weren't. He'd pretended they were having the everyday squabbles and disagreements of any newly married couple. He'd even convinced himself, for a time, that he couldn't expect Henry and Mary to get on as well as Matthew and Mary had. Eventually though he'd given up the pretense realizing what Mary had long known; the Talbots were mismatched and poorly suited for marriage.

Henry was not a bad man. He was not the sort to knock his wife around. He did not parade other women around, as far as Tom knew he'd been faithful to his vows. The problems were not violence or infidelity, but instead two strong willed individuals whose very personalities rankled against the other person's wants and desires.

Henry was a Londoner. He liked fast cars and lived life at the same pace. He could barely disguise his boredom in poky Downton. He liked a cocktail before dinner and seemed befuddled if he could not have one on Sunday evenings at Downton. He had no taste for fatherhood, which was no sin, save for the fact that he married a woman with a young son. He could barely restrain his sarcasm for the agricultural side of Downton. "Oh are we spending another evening discussing the pigs and the sheep, how very, very tedious."

Mary hated car races. If she wasn't clenching her hands in fear she was complaining about the headache the noises gave her. She would trail alongside Henry on his car buying trips, delivering one snide remark after another. "A new type of sparkplug fascinating," she'd observed rolling her eyes.

He'd tried to mediate their arguments. "Find some mutual ground," He'd urged Henry. "Stop making jokes about his cars," He'd advised Mary. Then at last he'd realized it was pointless. Mary and Henry were not the sort who cared for mutual ground. And the very last thing they would ever consider withholding was a single sarcastic retort.

Mary & Henry, Tom decided, were twin personalities who repelled one another. As a couple they were too much the same, both wanted their way, both either wholly absorbed or totally bored. A pair of dominate personalities who were irritated by their spouses' determination to dominate them. It was in all ways a mismatch, as Mary had feared and Tom had refused to see.

After one long caustic argumentative dinner, they had marooned themselves on opposite sides of the drawing room, both poorly concealing their disdain for the other, Bertie had summed them up saying, "Edith and I went on a lion hunt in Africa on our honeymoon." He sipped his drink meditatively before continuing, "Sometimes when I see that angry glare and feline behaviors out of my sister-in-law and her husband it reminds me of those animals." Seeming to think better of the comparison he added, "Except if they were lions one would eat the other and be done with the whole business." Tom thought it not an inapt comparison.

Whatever impulse initially attracted them fell away eight or so months into their marriage. And the next year and a half had been a time of utter coldness and misery. Two weeks ago Mary had asked him to accompany her on a walk. They'd climbed to their favorite spot a hill where they could see the vastness of the lands. Sybil had taken him there once. He'd been spouting his beliefs and questioning her family legacy. They'd hiked up together and for a time he found her to lovely to notice anything else. Yet, reaching the spot, he looked out, and seeing the majesty of the grounds, recognizing the abbey as a tiny dot in a vast, vast landscape he had suddenly understood Robert a great deal better.

Though she had not revealed the purpose of the walk, Tom had sensed change was afoot. Mary had handed off some of her duties to him in the past weeks, told him she needed time to think. He saw too how very relieved she was by Henry's absence, how comfortable she was without her husband. Divorce had not been mentioned, yet Tom had sensed a break was coming.

When they reached the apex of the hill, Mary opened a thermos of hot tea pouring them both a cup announcing, "Henry will be back from his race next week for Christmas." She took a breath as if preparing herself before stating, "The day after Christmas I'm asking him for a divorce." She glanced at Tom asking curiously. "Aren't you going to say something?"

"I cannot say I'm surprised."

Mary looked up at nervously suspecting, "I suppose you're angry with me."

"Not at all." He assured her, finding the words to be true. "Angrier with myself, actually..."

"You expected this?" Mary asked accusingly, he suspected she was bristling at the idea he'd known her so well.

Tom nodded admitting, "For a long while. You were right. You are poorly suited."

"It's that obvious."

"Only to the people that love you," He reassured her fondly.

Mary smiled at his words saying, "I may require your assistance." She admitted uneasily. "I will surely need your friendship."

He turned facing her promising, "You will have both for the rest of our lives."

And standing alone by the library fire he was determined to live up to his vow, whatever the cost to his own feelings.

 **.~.~.~.~.**

Mary closed the door feeling as if she was closing the chapter on a period of true unhappiness. She had no doubt the months to come would be uncomfortable. She was equally certain that the pain would be nothing compared to even a single day more of open hostility from dawn to dusk. It felt good to break free of the misery even if a different misery was certain to come. _"A storm braver if ever I knew one."_ The memory of the phrase was almost a balm giving her a small comfort. She could bear up what was to come. And if the years to come were to be lonely and cold at least they would be absent the fear of what one's husband would say to inflict pain. Or conversely what she would say to inflict pain on her husband. Henry had brought out the very worst in her, and she supposed, the same was true that she brought out the absolute very worst in him. Thankfully that would soon be finished. Yes, she was glad to be done with the entire affair. Whatever was to come could hardly be worse.

Stepping into the drawing room she saw Tom looking like Tiaa when she made a mess on the carpet.

"I feel responsible for this," He muttered uncomfortably.

Mary stood silently for a long beat before saying, "I'm afraid I'm not Sybil. I won't absolve you of your responsibility." She sighed before continuing, "But nor can I blame you wholly. I am the architect of my own unhappiness."

Tom considered this for a moment before arguing, "If so we handed you the bricks and mortar." Sounding confounded by his own behavior Tom admitted, "You told us you weren't well suited."

Mary smiled a cold ironic expression that did not reach her lips. "And in that I was wholly correct."

"I don't know what possessed me to push so hard."

Mary shrugged her shoulders saying, "It doesn't matter. What's done is done. And I am quite certain the worse is soon to follow."

"Surely he'll be a gentleman about it."

"I don't believe he will." She said quietly. "He almost certainly will not."

Tom shook his head, "And he calls himself a gentleman."

"Apparently Rosamund knows some fourth or fifth cousin of ours that is a barrister." She said rising. "I have an appointment with him the day after tomorrow. I was hoping you'd accompany me."

Tom nodded agreeing, "Of course. Will I be able to help?"

"Who knows." Mary said vacantly. "If nothing else you must make me laugh." She said softly, "If you can." Nodding as if decided on her course of action Mary turned and walked up the stairs alone.

 **.~.~.~.~.**

Without conscious thought Mary found her footsteps leading her toward the nursery. Of late she had spent increasing amounts of time with her son. George was eager to learn to ride and seemed to share her passion for horses. While she felt he was too young for riding they often walked to the stables and visited the horses. Likewise she spent time discussing the breeding and care of the animals with George. She knew she would never be the cuddly type of mother her sister seemed to favor, but she felt certain she and George would be closer than she and her own mother had been. Generally she found George romping with Sybbie and Marigold but this afternoon they were playing quietly with dolls. "Where is George?" She asked glancing around. Neither girl answered; instead they merely looked toward the bedroom.

Mary stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. George was seated on his bed fingering his airplane. "Darling are you not feeling well?"

"Uncle Henry came to say goodbye."

"Oh," She said tucking her skirt under her legs and sitting down on his small bed.

George looked down at his plane asking, "Did I do something wrong?"

"You didn't do a single thing wrong."

"I should have tried harder." He glanced down at his plane. "I could have been nicer."

In spite of his serious expression Mary found herself chuckling admitting, "Well I suppose in that you are your mother's son."

Furrowing his brow George declared,"But I am your son."

She pushed a sway strand of hair back into place. "You are that. But you have a bit of your father in you, and your Grandparents as well I think."

"Grandpapa Merton says I have the makings of a fine philatelist." He said proudly adding, "I like stamps."

"And that is entirely the legacy of his influence." She said warmly. Isobel often came to fetch George on Saturdays, and during his visits to her house he had developed a warm relationship with her Godfather.

"I should have tried harder to like cars."

Mary considered this saying, "Perhaps I should have as well. But that doesn't matter now."

"He never wanted to be my father." George said softly.

Feeling slightly taken aback by his words Mary took a moment before saying, "You don't need Henry to be your father." She promised him. "You have a father."

"Papa is dead."

Mary closed her eyes to force away any tears that might come and was silent a long moment. Finally she said, "Yes he is. But his son is alive."

"What does that mean?"

"That means as long as you live a part of your papa lives."

"I won't know him."

"You will." Mary promised feeling a crushing sense of regret at the wasted time. "Starting tomorrow you and I will remember him a little bit every day." She opened her arms and Matthew's son like his father knew exactly what she needed and rushed over to hug her.

 **.~.~.~.~.**

Having settled George, Mary wanted nothing more than to collapse in her bed. Instead she moved down the corridor stopping and knocking at a familiar door. "Mama?"

"Come in darling," Cora called.

Stepping into the room Mary saw Baxter was placing the finishing touches on her mother's hair. "Baxter would you excuse us for a moment?"

"Darling," Cora chided lightly, "Can't this wait for my hair truly cannot."

"Mama," Mary besieged hearing the tension in her own voice as she insisted, "It cannot." Cora nodded to Baxter and the servant curtsied before exiting the room. "Papa," She called loudly enough that Robert entered the room moments later minus his jacket. "I need to speak to both of you."

Robert and Cora exchanged questioning glances causing Mary to suggest," Papa perhaps you should sit down."

"What is it my darling?" Cora questioned worriedly.

"I assume you both know Henry has left again."

Robert nodded, "I saw his car being brought around."

"Has business taken him back to London?" Cora inquired politely with the most hopeful of expressions. Mary had never worked out if Cora actually liked Henry or simply liked her daughter securely in the bonds of matrimony.

"Of a sort," Mary admitted. Knowing the next admission was going to be painful she hurriedly added, "Henry and I are getting a divorce."It felt a relief to say the words, to be done with the false actions and pretenses that had characterized the last year and a half of her marriage.

"A divorce," Cora repeated incomprehensively. "Surely not."

Mary had expected her response whenever reality seemed unpalatable Cora retreated to the fantasy all would magically be well. Cora labored under the delusion a good's nights rest would heal all complications from infidelity to weight gain.

"I'm quite decided on it." Mary knew she must be clear regarding the demise of the marriage. Cora could have no room for nursing false hopes.

Cora sat back in her chair saying, "I had not expected anything so drastic."

Mary sat down on the edge of her parent's bed acknowledging, "I know you both must be terribly disappointed…."

"Is there no hope?"

Mary looked up at her mother asking, "Do you believe there could be."

"I suppose not, but divorce?" Cora whispered the word as if uttering a profanity. "Is he so eager to begin again?"

Frowning Mary said, "I don't believe there is another woman if that's what you are implying." She was entirely certain that was precisely her mother's implication but with Cora she tended to feign ignorance.

Relief flooded Cora's face as she asked confusedly, "Then why so drastic a step?"

"I'm not happy."

Rolling her eyes Cora dismissed the comment stating, "Happiness and marriage are two entirely separate matters."

"You are just saying that to sound clever." Robert pronounced rolling his eyes. Seeing Mary and Cora staring at him he admitted, "I heard Isobel say that to Mother and I thought it sounded very smart."

Aside from arching an eyebrow Mary made no comment to her father. Instead, she returned her attention to her mother saying, "I was married and I was happy."

At her words Cora's gaze softened and Robert dropped his head. And for a time the room was oddly silent. Finally, Cora broke the silence offering, "Darling I know you and Matthew were so happy. I cannot even imagine what losing him meant but…"

"Don't say he's dead and Henry isn't," Mary practically begged.

Cora seemed utterly pained by the phrase. "I would never say such a ridiculous thing. No sane person would. But," She suggested gently, "Perhaps it's unfair to compare the marriages. Matthew was your soul mate, whatever his merits Henry may simply not quite compare. That doesn't mean you cannot be happy together."

Mary considered her mother's words for a time before answering, "Mama he doesn't make me happy. And that's bad enough. But I don't like the person I am with him." Seeing she had her parents' attention Mary continued, "I'm becoming someone harsh, I enjoy saying spiteful things to him, I find hurting it causes me no pain whatsoever." She admitted studying the pattern of her dress with seeming all consuming interest. "I don't enjoy his company and I can no longer bear his presence in my daily life."

"He loves you." Cora protested weakly sounding as if she was not entirely certain of her argument.

"I don't think he does," Mary argued, "Not really or not in the right ways." She declared acknowledging, "And the same is true of my feelings for him."

Robert who had been oddly quiet said, "You were right then. You two are really ill suited for one another." Mary glanced over surprised by his insight, causing him to reply, "I've been watching you as your mother has. Cora can you say you honestly are surprised?"

Cora picked up her brush fingering the bristles for a time before saying, "No."

Nodding his head as if accepting the course of events Robert asked, "Have you contacted Murray?" Lest she object he offered philosophically, "I know you are not fond of him, still he may be able to offer some assistance.

"I hadn't thought of that." She admitted before confiding, "Aunt Rosamund helped me secure a barrister."

Cora's features tightened growing hard as she spat out, "Rosamund?"

"Mama be fair she knows more about this than any of us would."

"She certainly seems to know how to intervene in my daughters' lives."

"Cora," Robert sighed advising his wife, "It's hardly the time for this."

"Of course not," She said tightening her hold on the hairbrush. "It never is."

Deciding to forego an argument on that score Mary hastily put in, "I'll be meeting him tomorrow." Thinking they might invite themselves along she quickly interjected, "Tom will be going with me."

"Well I am so very glad Tom and Rosamund will provide you all the support you require," Cora said turning her back to her daughter insisting, "Will you ask Baxter to come back in please."

Mary rose grating, "Of course." She exchanged a pained look with her father before crossing the room.

As she pulled the door closed she heard Robert sigh declaring, "For my part I'll be glad our meals will no longer be filled with the daily racing report."

 **.~.~.~.~.**

After the ordeal with her parents Mary summoned Anna informing her that she would have dinner on a tray in her room. Afterward she read George a bedtime story before returning to her room for a restless sleep. She woke around one resting her hand atop her forehead. She felt utterly exhausted, and yet she seemed incapable of getting any real rest. She'd fall asleep and then wake 20-30 minutes later, fall asleep again and then the cycle would repeat. Turning on her side she reached into the drawer of her bedside table and withdrew a framed photograph. Her wedding photograph with Matthew. She'd retrieved it from their old bedroom a few months before and then buried it at the bottom of the drawer lest Henry notice it, still every now and again she would remove the photograph. Tonight studying it she could only confess amid her tears,"Oh Matthew what a mess I made of things."

 **.~.~.~.~.**

By morning Mary was further exhausted as if the rest had only further sapped her resources. She had slept fitfully waking, rising from the bed and pacing then returning to bed to drift off to an even more fitful rest. She had stared at Matthew's picture as if expecting him to emerge from the frame and return to her. The photo however remained still. And Matthew's expression which had seemed loving and kind in daylight, seemed taunting and judgmental in the night. When Anna came to wake her just after five she was already sitting up in the bed feeling exhausted, and ill prepared for the day.

 **.~.~.~.~.**

Closing her bag Mary slowly descended the stairs stopping only when she saw a small figure. George was seated on the bottom step dressed in his brown coat with his tie dangling loosely around his neck.

"Darling what are you doing up?" She asked her drowsy eyed son.

"See you." He said shaking his head as if needing the action to fully waking up.

"Where is nanny?"

"Asleep," George said. "I dressed myself." And perhaps he was her son because Mary had to acknowledge he'd done a reasonably good job. And while the tie was not the one Nanny had ever paired with his brown tweed, she thought the dark red particularly fetching.

"Mrs. Carson," Mary called seeing the housekeeper entering the foyer, "Will you escort Master George back to the nursery. He seems to have escaped without Nanny's knowledge."

Mrs. Carson smiled down at the boy acquiescing, "Of course milady."

George however seemed to have a different notion stating, "I'm going with you." He spoke as if the matter was already decided.

"Darling I'm only going to see a barrister I will be back in time to read you a bedtime story."

"I am going." He insisted stamping his foot on the floor. For perhaps the first time, Mary recognized a hard, determination in his expression that reminded her of her own. Sounding every bit her son George said, "I will come." And for the first time Mary recognized that George might have more of her personality than she had previously imagined. So she simply took his hand in her own saying to Mrs. Hughes, "Tell Nanny Master George will accompany me to London."

Mrs. Hughes dipped her head saying, "Yes milady."

Mary took George's hand leading him toward the door and the waiting automobile advising him, "You must be a very good chap for Mama."

"Yes mama," He agreed every bit the docile nursery occupant.

 **.~.~.~.~.**

The train had been delayed and they had to dash from King's Cross to the offices of Turnball, Patricks, and Crawley. Tom had decided to wait in a nearby restaurant and had offered to mind George, but the boy clutched Mary's skirt and shook his head decidedly. As such Mary entered the office holding the hand of a very small boy.

Rosamund had been waiting in the office, when Mary entered she informed her niece, "Murray has gone in first, Murray wants to speak to the man beforehand."

Mary frowned at this news; Murray was not a man she particularly wished to speak for her character. Still she could hardly complain. Her father had been right though, he might well understand the legal issues better than she would. Still the idea of those tired old bones representing her perspective. The Barrister would like as not expect her to come tottering in wearing a scarlet A. Sighing she took a seat beside her aunt asking, "How did you find this barrister?"

"Oh a friend mentioned there was a barrister with our name. And I thought that was so droll. Then I forgot all about it until you telephoned. "Besides I was simply dying to meet him, there is such gossip about him."

Mary glanced over saying, "Pray tell why?" It would be just Rosamund's thing to find someone draped in scandal, indulging her curiosity for the scandal and never bothering to inquire if he was qualified for the task.

"He is the subject of much gossip because of his aeroplane accident."

"During the war?" Mary assumed not finding the story terribly interesting.

Rosamund smiled triumphantly, "You would assume wouldn't you?" She said leaning closer and lowering her voice so Mary had to strain to hear her aunt's words. "You see he wasn't hurt in the war. He crashed his plane sometime in 1920. It was a terrible mash up. And the family thought he'd have to remain in a home. But then a year or so later he awoke."

"That sounds more a miracle than a mystery." Mary pronounced idly wondering why she seemed fated to eternally be around crashes of all sorts.

"Well it would except after he woke up the family swears his personality was entirely different."

In spite of her anxiety Mary found herself oddly interested in Rosamund's prattling prodding her on inquiring, "How?"

"Well he had studied to be a solicitor/barrister, but no one expected him to practice. In fact prior to the war he only seemed interested in airplanes, motorcars and women." She sighed adding, "But since he woke from his accident he's apparently quite the worker bee. I must confess," She said tiredly. "The aristocracy taking up work like common laborers does so confound me."

"Didn't Marmaduke have a position?"

"Well of course he had a position," Rosamund sniffed explaining, "But that simply meant he filled out some boring papers in the morning, had a very respectful three martini lunch and knocked off for a game of golf by two."

 **.~.~.~.~.**

"Lady Mary," Murray's head popped out, interrupting Rosamund's tale. "If you would like to step into the office," His tone remained as always dour and slightly depressing. Whatever her father saw in the mind was utterly beyond her.

Mary and Rosamund rose in tandem. They had not discussed the visit, still Mary felt grateful for her aunt's presence. Facing a barrister to discuss the failure of her marriage was frightening enough, but doing it while Murray sat there judgmental and beady eyed was another matter entirely.

The secretary a youngish man named Jeffries smilingly offered to, "Keep an eye on young master."

Mary urged George toward him before stepping into the dark paneled office.

"Mr. Crawley had to step out for a moment," Murray said gesturing to four dark red clothed chairs arranged in a circle. "If you'd like to sit down," he suggested gesturing toward the chairs.

Rosamund complied, but Mary began wandering around the office. She stopped before a book case randomly noticing a few titles-Reincarnation And The Law Of Karma by William Walker Atkinson, Helgakviða Hjörvarðssonar _ **,**_ Tibetan Book of the Dead, The Writings of Hélène Smith & Mahabharata. She had never heard of most of these titles. Still, she recognized a few of the titles from Matthew's office bookshelves. She reached out touching one familiar volume taking an odd comfort from recognizing it was the same edition her husband had owned.

Hearing the door open, she turned to see a tall figure entering the room apologizing, "I'm terribly sorry for having to step out a moment." And as he finished the sentence Mary saw his eyes and almost gasped in recognition.

"You?" She said and it seemed the only apt response.

The hair was more brown than blonde, he had a beard and wore brown horn rimmed spectacles and a black patch covered one eye. A remnant of his air crash, she was certain, but one she found strangely fetching. But the surviving eye was blue the lightest blue she had ever seen since….In every way he was very slightly different from her husband, but in in so many ways he was so very similar to Matthew it almost took her breath away.

"Lady Mary?" He entreated sounding less concerned than curious. "Are you quite alright?" He inquired those blue, blue eyes fixating only on her.

Mary forced her head downward into a nod, forced her mouth to move forcing out, "I'm sorry for a moment you reminded me of….. someone."

"Yes you look a bit familiar." He said and she could not tell if he was hedging or humoring her. "Shall we sit?"

"Sit?" She repeated senselessly. "Yes, yes." She agreed incapable of tearing her eyes away from this man who looked so like her Matthew.

Rosamund spoke first saying, "You do look oddly familiar." And from her tone Mary could tell she recognized the very same things that were leaving Mary agog. "Perhaps we are acquainted with your wife," Rosamund suggested in such a plainly obvious fashion that Mary imagined the blind, deaf veteran she'd seen on the street would easily discern Rosamund's intent.

If Mary hadn't been staring at the barrister she would have rolled her eyes at her aunt's comment. Of course that would be Rosamund's go to question.

The barrister looked up saying, "My wife….." He seemed to squint his eye for a moment before saying, "The flu epidemic." And then he became very focused on his file.

"Yes, well that is very tragic," Murray stated in his expected disapproving tone. "Lady Mary Crawley this is Mr. Alexander Crawley."

The man smiled slightly saying, "It's Alexsander." His lips quirked upwards at his admission, "My mother is a bit of an eccentric and a great fan of novels.

"Alexsander," Mary said sounding out the name and finding it oddly comfortable. "How very nice."

"Not so actually," He retorted wryly. "Quite a bit of a nuisance in school and university…"

"I can imagine," Rosamund said. "How long have you been a barrister."

Alexsander seemed slightly surprised by the question taking a moment before saying, "Well I finished Cambridge in 1912 and then I was engaged in the family trade for a time, managing our interests. During the war however I got a taste for the profession and found it to my liking… The last six or so years I've been steadily engaged in the practice of law."

Murray laughed uneasily saying, "This is hardly a job interview Lady Rosamund."

"I would agree I'm making conversation." Rosamund argued before inquiring, "How do you feel about divorce."

"It's put many a pound in my bank book." Alexsander acknowledged lightly. Then seeming to take her question more seriously he said, "I believe in the institution of marriage. However, I also recognize that institution does not suit everyone. I feel the marriage reform laws are badly needed and I do feel in my work I have achieved some good."

"Do you strictly handle divorces?"

"Oh no if one wants to live by his wits in this profession he must diversify so I'm a jack of all trades." Alexsander said confessing, "I'll take any number of actions from murders to philanders." He looked very slightly abashed by his final comment but Mary found it oddly alluring.

"Oh don't mind me I'm married I know everything," Rosamund retorted playfully.

"Well, well," Murray stated firmly. "If we may get down to the matter at hand, Lady Mary intends to secure a divorce."

"I see," Alexsander agreed more interestedly. "May I speak privately with Lady Mary."

Murray huffed irritably, however Mary quickly overrode him acquiescing, "Of course."

Murray nodded clearly accepting if unhappy with the situation, whereas Rosamund rose obviously reluctantly. "We'll just be outside," She promised trailing slowly behind Murray watching them the entire way to the door.

Alexsander waited until the door was closed before turning his body and full attention toward Mary, "I didn't want an audience."

"Of course not," Mary agreed trying without any real success not to stare at him.

"You are aware of the limitations of divorce in this country?"

"My first husband was a solicitor."

"This will be your second divorce?"

Mary looked away from those eyes for the first time. The earlier blue eyed Crawley filling her mind. "He was killed in an automobile accident."

"Oh I am sorry." He said sounding deeply apologetic.

"Around the same time as you began recovering." She did not know what made her say such a thing, nor could she regret saying it.

"Oh," He said self-consciously and sounding somewhat befuddled, "I see."

Deciding not to prolong that course just yet Mary prodded him, "You were saying about reasons for divorce."

"Well as you must know the Matrimonial Causes Act 1857 is a shackle making such procedures almost impossible to enact." He said crossing one leg atop the other. "Have you any hotel evidence?"

Mary felt her face go flush, "No as far as I know none exists at the present time. Actually," She spoke decidedly, "I'm certain none exists. But," She admitted casually, "He's a motor car driver so I have little doubt we can prove a case." She assured him her mind already swirling with ideas.

Alexsander glanced at her over his glasses smirking ever so slightly, "I'm certain I do not know what you mean."

Her first lucid thought, the first since she'd recognized he looked so much like Matthew, was he was not quite like Matthew. He was and she was not sure how she knew but somehow she just did…. sneakier… Whereas he looked the stodgy barrister she had a feeling he was a different animal.

"I am quite certain that you do," She parried back pleased when he merely smiled back.

"I believe we may enjoy working together," He admitted arching a brow ever so slightly.

Mary was about to reply when the door was pushed open and tiny blonde head popped into the room calling, "Mama!" Without waiting for an invitation George ran across the room toward his mama. Only when he reached her legs did he look over to the man who had squatted down to his height. "Who are you?" Even as he asked George kept a tight clasp on Mary's skirt lest he required her protection.

"Hello my fine chap." The man said extending his hand to the boy. "And who are you?"

"I'm George." Overcoming his shyness he extended his hand as his grandfather had taught him to do when greeting a stranger. "George Crawley."

"Well how very nice," Alexsander said grinning, "I'm a Crawley too. Alexsander Crawley."

"Are you a solicitor?" George asked adding very proudly. "My papa was a solicitor."

"Very, very close. I am a barrister." He said. "Which means sometimes I wear a very silly wig and argue in the courtroom."

George nodded as if this made perfect sense to him. "I was worried about my mama. She didn't come out with Aunt R and Mr. Murray."

"Then you wanted to protect your mama." Alexsander said respectfully. "That means you will grow up to be a very good man." Mary watched the barrister squatting down talking to her son with such interest. And she saw how oddly alike they looked, icy blue eyes staring into icy blue eyes

"George this man is going to be helping Mama." Mary said finding oddly convinced that he would and possibly in many ways.

 **.~.~.~.~.**

A few minutes later, Mary strode out of the office holding George's hand and looking oddly cheerful.

Rosamund immediately stood declaring, "My dear I had no idea whatsoever. I'm utterly stunned."

"It's quite alright," Mary replied smoothly. "I'm very pleased with our cousin. I feel we shall make quite the pair." And without further comment she walked from the office and across the street to where Tom was waiting. Her smile lasted the entire train ride home.

 **.~.~.~.~.**

DS was once asked if he would ever consider playing a dark haired Crawley cousin so I took that idea and went with it. So yes the role of Alexsander is pretty much DS in a different role. Take that as you will.


	2. Chapter 2

Happy Valentine's Day everyone. For the holiday I wrote the second installment in the Intervals universe. I hope you enjoy reading it nearly as much as I enjoyed writing it. Feedback can eat chocolate biscuits with George and Rosamund.

 **.~.~.~.~.**

February 14 1928

"Mama I did say I was sorry," Mary reminded her tiredly. She was indeed sick and tired of the conversation, and they had only been on the telephone five minutes. "But I do not understand why you told Henry I was in London."

"He promised me he would not disturb you."

"Well he has disturbed me." Mary snapped peevishly. "He's sent a letter, a gift, roses it's all terribly ridiculous."

"What did he give you?" Cora demanded curiously. Mary quashed the urge to slam the receiver down. Instead she merely rolled her eyes at the ridiculousness of the question. "And you can take that look right off your face." Cora admonished amid the crackling phone line.

Mary glanced around as if expecting her mother to materialize. "What look?"

"Darling please," Cora said bemusedly, as if they had not been having a variation on this conversation since her first season. "What did he give you?"

The sound of the ringing bell caused Mary to end the conversation insisting, "Mama my barrister is coming for luncheon, we can discuss this when I return home this weekend."

As she replaced the receiver Mary heard Cora drily reply, "I can hardly wait."

 **.~.~.~.~.**

Rosamund, rose as Alexsander was shown into the drawing room, extending her hand and greeting him. "How very pleasant to see you."

Squeezing her hand firmly Alexsander said, "And how pleasant to see you Lady Rosamund."

"Cousin Rosamund, please." She insisted gesturing toward a chair, "Can I offer you tea or perhaps coffee?"

"Neither thank you," He declined taking a seat. "I hope I find you well."

"Extremely," Rosamund agreed sharing, "It's always so pleasant to have young people in the house. George keeps me on my toes." Alexsander merely smiled causing her to inquire, "How are the workings of the legal profession?"

"At the moment I am on my toes myself," He said straightening his tie. "I'm starting a trial next week."

"I read about in the newspaper." Rosamund shared excitedly. "It sounds terrifically interesting."

"I suppose," He agreed in an aloof tone, "Though less interesting to my client as he could face the rope."

"I'm certain," Rosamund agreed seemingly confounded by his comment.

Further need for conversation was spared when the sound of running footsteps pierced the silent room causing both Rosamund and Alexsander to turn expectantly toward the door. George literally skidded into the room calling, "Auntie R!" His expression froze when he saw she had a guest, and he immediately bleated apologetically, "Oh."

"Hello George."

"Hello," George answered somewhat uncertainly at the man speaking to him.

Sensing the boy's distress Alexsander reminded him, "I am Alexsander Crawley. Your mama's barrister."

"Oh yes," George agreed crossing the room and extending his hand. "It is so kind of you to come."

Rosamund smiled at his words, confessing with a fond indulgence, "My brother's influence."

Shaking the small hand, Alexsander mirrored the boy's seriousness inquiring, "How are you today?"

"Very fine." George answered observing, "We have been enjoying lovely weather."

"We have indeed," Alexsander agreed swallowing a smile.

"Aunt Rosamund," Mary called entering the room, stopping when she saw Alexsander, "Oh…Good morning." Mary smiled saying, "I'll be ready in only a moment." Alexsander simply nodded, as Mary turned toward George, who had taken a seat on the sofa next to Rosamund, explaining, "Mr. Crawley and I are going to luncheon."

"Can I go?" George asked sitting up expectantly.

"Darling we are going to a restaurant, and it will be very proper and not your type of meal at all."

"I wanna go." George cried pitifully.

"Darling," Mary consoled softly, "When I get home we can read a lovely storybook together."

"I don't want to read a storybook." He refused turning away from her sulkily.

"Oh dear," Mary tittered quietly. She had never quite mastered what one did with a small child when they refused to behave as expected. She glanced around as if hoping nanny would magically appear.

Stepping forward Alexsander requested, "May I make a suggestion?" Seeing Mary offered no objections, he continued on stating, "After luncheon I intended to take a long stroll by the river. If you are free, I'd be happy to have you and the young chap join me."

Mary smiled relief pouring through her as she agreed gratefully, "That sounds wonderful."

Squatting down Alexsander faced George stating, "While we luncheon you young chap had better rest up, because this afternoon I intend to show you the skills of skipping stones in the Thames."

"I know how, Donk showed me." He stated proudly.

"Donk?"

Mary sighed admitting somewhat embarrassedly, "He and his cousins' name for my father."

Alexsander smiled at George sharing, "Well as good as your Donk is, I am a champion rock skipper. So you'd best rest up as I intend to test and improve your stone skipping game, eh?" George nodded his head happily. Rising Alexsander turned toward Mary suggesting, "Shall we?"

Mary beamed agreeing, "Happily." They both turned and walked out of the room.

Rosamund sat still on the sofa until she heard the front door close, then she rose, hurrying toward the window. Pushing aside the drapes she watched them step into the car, following their movements until the car turned down the street traveling out of sight. Only then did she turn to George offering, "Shall we have a chocolate biscuit."

"Mama says chocolate biscuits are very bad."

"Well then," Rosamund agreed coolly, "Isn't it well that she isn't here so we can enjoy ours." George merely giggled placing his hand into hers as they stepped away from the window.

 **.~.~.~.~.**

The bistro Mary had suggested was only a short ride from Eaton Square, and she spent nearly the whole of the trip studying Alexsander. During their previous visit she had been nearly hypnotized by his brilliant blue eye. Now with his head turned, and his gaze fixed on the road, she studied his other characteristics. His brown hair was combed back. His beard likewise was neatly trimmed. While Mary had never cared for facial hair, she had to admit that the look suited Alexsander.

She noted too that unlike her husband, Alexsander was clearly a man accustomed to a certain fashion. His suit, a tailored double breasted blue pin stripe, was neatly set off by a red pindot tie knotted in a Prince Albert style. The look of him she decided was altogether pleasing. Still, Tony and Henry were lessons in the perils of merely following her attractions. She would need to know far more before proceeding on any front.

As torturous as it had been waiting for an excuse to contact him again, Mary had put the time to good use. She'd spent entire evenings pouring over the peerage guide. In hindsight she realized her cousins were not entirely unknown to her. Their industrial concerns and inclinations seemed to keep them sequestered in the North. And puzzlingly the elder Crawleys had shown not the least interest in engaging in the season. Still one detail of that research caused her to inquire, "Why don't you use your title?"

Alexsander's lips quirked upwards as he questioned… "Has the Lady been inquiring into her barrister?"

"Of course," She admitted finding the question nonsensical.

"My father was titled early in the war." Alexsander noted switching lanes. "Benedict, my brother," He said explaining, "Is called the Marquess. But as I will inherit neither my father's title nor his property I felt it a bit silly to change my stationary."

"That's a flippant answer." She also thought it a rather odd one, but felt it imprudent to say so.

"It is." He agreed chuckling and turning his head to back the car alongside the pavement. Once he had done so, he stopped seemingly thinking for a moment before admitting, "Lady Mary I am a very good barrister. I take my work entirely seriously. Everything else seems to me a bit of comedy. And tacking a title on to my name merely to impress people I rarely encounter in my day to day life seemed especially so. I'm not immune to titles. I very much hope to don the silk, but for now a title would be silly to me or my clients."

Mary thought that the strangest thing she had ever heard. Still she felt no real need to inquire. Particularly as at the same moment he reached up removing his glasses and placing them in his inner coat pocket, which distracted her terribly. Much to her horror before she could stop herself she heard herself asking curiously, "You don't always wear your glasses."

If he seemed surprised by her question Alexsander did not betray it answering only, "No generally only when I read and for driving," He said rubbing his eye. "Owing to the case I've been overdoing it a bit. And my eye is a bit tired, hence me wearing them earlier."

"I see," Mary said adding, "I've been following your case in the newspapers."

"Are you about to tell me how interesting it is?" She felt the heaviness of his gaze, sensed he was seeking something more than his question suggested.

"Hardly," Mary said earnestly, "Frightening and depressing." And that was entirely true. The case, a cuckolded husband murdering his wife's lover, seemed horrific. She found herself surprised by the gossipy comments she heard society making about the crime.

Alexsander's lips quirked upwards as he opened his door, stepping out he said; "I quite agree."

 **.~.~.~.~.**

Seeing Alexsander the maître d exclaimed delightedly, "Mr. Crawley." After a few moments of hand shaking camaraderie, Mary found herself being led to a private table in a secluded corner of the restaurant. Waving the man aside, Alexsander pulled Mary's chair and stood behind it until she was seated. Once he took a seat, the maître d handed them both menus, before highlighting the specials. When he at last scurried away, Mary smiled at Alexsander querying, "You eat here often?"

"I enjoy good French food;" He explained lifting his menu, "And this is one of the few restaurants in this country that offer authentic cuisine."

"You are a Francophile." Mary pronounced delightedly.

"A bit," He admitted asking, "Are you? After all, you are the one who mentioned this restaurant."

"I'm entirely to English to consider myself a Francophile," She demurred lightly, "But I do enjoy French cuisine."

"Then we have something in common." He noted returning his attention to his menu. "Though I must confess this is something of a first for me; I've never had a woman invite me to luncheon before." There was lightness to his tone that suggested mirth rather than vexation at this development.

Glancing over her menu Mary asked playfully, "And does it disturb you? A woman inviting you to dine?"

"Hardly," He scoffed dismissively. "My mother has been inviting me to dine for decades."

Smiling ruefully at his humor Mary said, "I think I shall have Coq Au Vin."

Taking her cue, Alexsander responded, "I will have a bowl of the onion soup." Setting his menu aside Alexsander suggested, "Shall we order a bottle of wine?"

"Let's," She agreed feeling pleased at his invitation.

"Red or white?"

"I prefer red."

"As do I," He acknowledged with a very slight but pleased smile. When the waiter emerged Alexsander ordered their wine and his entrée then glanced over at Mary expectantly.

Mary had been accustomed to her father, then Matthew, and finally Henry ordering her meals. She stumbled a bit before placing her order.

If Alexsander noted her behavior he did not comment instead confessing, "So I am incredibly curious why you wanted us to dine."

"Are you?" Mary teased before adding with false fretfulness, "I shudder to imagine what you assumed?"

"I never assume," He insisted unfolding his napkin and depositing it upon his lap. "However, generally when a female client contacts me near the feast of St. Valentine it is to confess that they have renewed their ardor with their husband."

"Heavens no," Mary promised reaching for her water before confessing, "Though he did send me a bouquet and a necklace."

"Oh," Alexsander replied curiously. "And how did you respond?"

"Gave the flowers to my lady's maid, and returned the necklace without comment." She said offering a shy smile. "What would you do?"

"I don't know really," He admitted smirking. "I get so few necklaces and sadly fewer still boxes of chocolates."

This time Mary chuckled finding the humor in his words. "Be seriously," Mary urged taking a sip of her water. "What would you do?"

"Seriously," He asked reaching for his water glass, "All I know of marriages convinces me I would be very ill suited in the institution."

"Don't you enjoy purchasing women chocolate and jewelry?"

"Not particularly," He admitted frankly. "I dislike bribery and the holiday has always seemed fearfully unequal." He paused a moment before questioning, "What did you give your husband last Valentine's Day?"

Mary thought back for a moment before saying, "We were having a fearful row. I believe I shredded the card I bought for him."

Chuckling he guessed, "And he gave you a necklace anyway, correct?"

"Earrings actually," She admitted matter of factly.

He smiled saying, "My point precisely. It is an invariably unequal holiday."

"I refuse to feel one iota of shame for any trinket he favored me with." Mary stated firmly. "Enduring his company merited numerous expensive gifts." She explained keeping a close eye on Alexsander as she settled down to business. "However, I'd like to leave the past in the past. At present, I am eager to proceed with my divorce."

He nodded agreeably before cautioning, "You have at least four more months and a cause yet."

"Of course," Mary granted focusing on the topic at hand. "But I'd like to be prepared for every possible eventuality."

"A wise approach," He admitted reaching for his glass. "By the way, accepting the necklace would not interfere with your suit. If you were worried about that," He said wary of her every eventuality mantra. He had the distinct sensation Lady Mary Crawley's every possible eventuality might differ greatly from the average woman's eventuality.

Mary reached lifting her glass and taking a sip of water before asking, "Do you imagine that's the only reason I rejected the baubles, because I feared it would undo my suit."

"I don't know you remotely well enough to even speculate." He admitted before adding with a surprising frankess, "The majority of my female clients might well have accepted the gift, yes."

"Well I would not." Mary stated firmly. "I don't think it proper to sell myself so cheaply. My favors greatly exceed a mere necklace."

"But as you said, you could argue you earned the tokens."

"Is that the argument your clients favor?"

"Generally."

Mary smiled suggesting, "Then perhaps I shall shine by comparison."

He narrowed his eyes and glanced at her oddly before admitting, "Funny…."

"What?"

"It's only, the way you said it…" He shook his head saying confusedly, "The phrase sounded so familiar." He stared at her as if wanting her to explain, but she merely smiled easily.

 **.~.~.~.~.**

The waiter had poured their wine, leaving the bottle on the table. Lifting his glass, Alexsander stared into the liquid. "You know Valentine's Day is a modern invention." He shared rocking the liquid slightly. "The Romans celebrated the festival of Lupercalia."

"Lupus as in wolves?"

"Indeed," He agreed continuing to rock the glass lightly. "A pastoral festival to purify and cleanse the city, as well as increase fertility," He took a sip of the wine smiling at the flavors he was tasting.

"It is always about fertility with the Romans." Mary said dismissively.

Alexsander nodded saying, "Have you visited Italy, the ruins?"

Mary shook her head admitting, "No. I've always wanted to." She hadn't actually given the idea much thought, but she supposed it might be nice. George would like that, she decided, and she found herself warming to the idea.

"It's a strange thing," He said distantly. "You feel all the time you are tromping on the dead. I went a summer during university. It didn't bother me then."

"And would it now?"

He took a sip of his drink then leaned back, resting against the chair. "I don't know really. Perhaps," He sighed as if still contemplating his answer. "You know during the war I flew all over France. Then last summer, my sister wanted me to accompany her to Paris for some do…and I nearly retched at the idea." He looked up almost apologetically. "I apologize I am babbling on a bit. Talking of ruins and school trips…."

She thought it not accidental he had not mentioned the war as among his babblings. Still not wanting him to feel unsettled she smiled suggesting, "Tell me about the ruins."

He paused appreciatively before saying, "Well I only saw the major ones. I'd love to go back later on, but the entire set up was quite fascinating." Mary smiled as he began his story and her expression seemed to relax him as he began telling her of the summer and the ruins and all he'd seen.

 **.~.~.~.~**

Once the waiter deposited their entrees Mary glanced critically at his small bowl. "Is that all you intend to eat?"

"I'm afraid I'm not much of an eater." He confessed without illuminating on the fact.

"I have the very opposite problem." Mary admitted using her knife to cut her chicken. "I love food."

"Do you cook?"

Mary chuckled admitting, "Eggs are my one quasi specialty, and the delivery is terribly inconsistent." She glanced up watching to see if he might remember something from that story.

Instead he smiled recalling, "My parents insisted we learn the basics." He reached for his wine glass admitting with a laugh, "My eldest sister can boil an egg and not much else. The younger two even less."

"And you?"

"It turns out the sons in the family inherited whatever culinary skills the family once possessed. Both Ben and I are fair cooks, and young Euard seems to have the talent."

"Edward?"

"E-u-a-r-d." He disdainfully spelled out. "My mother's mania for mangling names."

"And what do you cook?" Mary asked curiously.

"I actually make excellent French onion soup." He said adding, "I've never tried Coq Au Vin, yet."

"Do you cook for yourself?"

"I often work late, so I eat primarily in restaurants, but on the weekend when I have time I do enjoy making a meal. Though," He said shrugging, "As a bachelor it's less interesting."

"I find the entire process less interesting."

"Not like being a land agent?"

"I enjoy my work." She stated without apology.

Alexsander nodded, "I can respect that. I enjoy mine."

She raised her glass touching it to his, "To work."

 **.~.~.~.~**

After luncheon they sat relaxing over tea. Lifting his cup Alexsander said, "May I ask you a personal question?"

"As you are my barrister I suppose you must."

Even though their table was nestled in an isolated alcove of the room Alexsander glanced around, even lowering his voice before asking, "Why precisely do you want a divorce?"

"Because I do not want to be married to him any longer." She said flatly as if answering a very simple child.

"You could simply not see very much of one another," He suggested evenly. "That's generally how our sort arranges matters."

"My mother asked me the same thing," She confessed chuckling. The laugh was very nearly brittle conveying little humor. Leaning back she said, "Do you consider yourself an honest person."

Sitting his cup down on the saucer Alexsander contemplated his answer for a moment before stating, "My profession does not always allow it," He admitted pausing and then acknowledging," I believe in general, I am yes."

"I always thought I wasn't," She admitted thoughtfully. "I even said once I don't mind lying." Shewaited for Alexsander to make a response, but looking up she saw he was watching her waiting to see what she might say next. "The truth is I suppose in many ways I'm not an honest woman, yet in this single way I find I am." She reached for her cup needing something to distract her. "It would be a great deal easier to keep up a pretense," She conceded with a surprising frankness. "But I simply cannot. I know this process will be difficult. Still, I think lying and maintaining a façade would make me even unhappier."

Alexsander took in her words and paused taking a sip of his tea before explaining, "In spite of your feelings, you have no legal foundation for a divorce." Seeing her about to protest he listed off the likely reasons, "There are no other women, he is not by your admission mentally cruel, and he has fought against abandoning you. There are no obvious justifications for a petition."

Mary sighed saying, "My husband is a motor car driver. And prior to our marriage he was not innocent."

Gleaning her meaning Alexsander said, "Then perhaps I should hire an investigator."

"I think that would be a prudent move, perhaps not just yet though."

Raising an eyebrow he inquired, "And why not?"

"My husband is still utterly besotted with my favors." Mary stated plainly feeling neither pride nor shame in the fact. "The mere fact he sends me presents and letters, demonstrates that his ardor has not sufficiently cooled for him to take another to his favor."

A thin smile spread across Alexsander's lips. "You believe a husband can not both love his wife and take another woman to his bed." Without waiting for her response he observed coolly, "I imagine you must be a supremely self-confident woman or a trace naïve about the ways of men."

Mary fancied she was a very competent actress, yet she made no attempt to disguise the huff she emitted at his words nor the pout that quickly crossed her face.

 **.~.~.~.~.**

The drive back to Eaton Square had been a silent one. Mary had made little effort to disguise her emotions and her sullenness was evident. For his part, Alexsander had spent most of the drive biting back the smile that threatened to burst out. Realizing this was perhaps not the most professional of actions he waited until he parked before turning in his seat to face her. "Lady Mary," He paused after saying her name waiting for her attention. "You must forgive me if I am blunt."

"Is that what they call it?"

He bit his lip slightly before saying, "I could offer you a pretty excuse, but the truth is my work makes me very cynical about marriage. It makes me a very good barrister, perhaps not the best of dinner companions." He waited for her to interrupt, but recognizing she was watching him caused him to move ahead with his words. "I don't mean to offend or upset. But you must understand," He warned cautiously. "If you want a divorce the very best thing would be for your husband to be a bit of a cad."

Mary sighed admitting, "I know that is true. It's only…."

"Very hard." He replied supplying the answer he knew most likely filling her thoughts.

"Yes that," She acquiesced before adding, "However I do think you are wrong." Mary said firmly. "You can call me female, naïve whatever you believe, but Henry is stubborn. He won't give up easily. And he fixates."

"And you believe he is still fixated on you." He said leaning back against the seat.

"Very."

"I suppose I will know soon enough."

"Oh?"

He glanced up grinning then pointed, "I believe your son is waiting." Mary glanced up toward the window and saw her son waving excitedly.

Opening the door Alexsander swung his legs out saying, "I'll be just a second."

Mary watched him hurrying up the steps, watched the door open and George rushing out. He leaned down and swept a laughing George up into his arms carrying him down the steps and to the car. He opened the door and slid George in the middle of the seat. His actions were a kind of elixir, seeming to dissipate any irritation Mary had felt. And by the time they arrived at the park Mary felt her mood suddenly as bright as the midwinter sun.

 **.~.~.~.~.**

It had been a balmy winter. Typically walking by the river in February was an uncomfortable trip. The afternoon though the warmth of the sun made it seem a preternaturally early spring, and as such Mary felt atypical lightness in her step. Her last few visits to London had been difficult; she and Henry pretending at a happiness they no longer felt, all the time playacting the role of a happily married couple. It felt good to shed that skin and simply be herself. Surprisingly she found it felt quite natural to walk side by side with Alexsander. He was not quite as tall as Matthew, yet very nearly so. And as they walked side by side both were content in the silences. Henry was always talking and talking; generally about cars, almost always about something that interested her not at all. As such she found the silence between she and Alexsander a most welcome thing.

Lunch had answered few of her questions. If anything it had only added questions. She was not certain just what she had expected. She had virtually floated home from their first meeting certain this was Matthew returned. Yet, even her tentative research indicated this might not be so. Certainly Matthew had nothing of the barrister in his nature. Matthew was talkative, naturally outgoing. Alexsander seemed more prone to silence, long periods passed without him saying a single thing. He puffed contemplatively on his pipe seemingly lost in his own thoughts, smiling occasionally seemingly at George who was skipping ahead of them.

"What are you thinking about?" She prodded curiously.

He turned his head admitting, "The case."

Mary tried to push down her irritation that a man could spend time with her and all the while be contemplating work. "I am surprised you can take the afternoon off. With it next week…"

"You think I'm taking the afternoon off?" He questioned adding, "I've actually been thinking about the case the whole of our walk."

Mary frowned coyly asking, "Is my company not sufficiently diverting?"

"I do some of my very best thinking on afternoons like these." He said avoiding answering her question. "I find walking helps me sort matters out."

"I assumed it was hours and hours of preparation and planning." She said an odd memory of finding her husband in pajamas working with only the sliver of a desk lamp illuminating his room a handful of times during pressing litigation.

"It isn't that I don't do the preparation, it's only that afterward I like to work out some of the tangles on walks like these… I suppose it's the Chinese influence…" He admitted thoughtfully. Seeing Mary furrowing her brow in confusion, Alexsander explained; "After University my father sent me to a number of Asian ports." Seeing her surprised expression he chuckled saying, "He's an odd duck my dad. Had ideas of going to such places himself…He was the second son. Wanted an Army life in India or Asia, I suppose."

"Yet he remained a North country businessman."

"His elder brother, the one who was going to run the business, was out steeple chasing. Broke his neck. Finished my dad's ideas for his future, he had to shoulder the business. "

"I am sorry."

He smiled saying enigmatically, "I suppose it fits though….As my elder brother was going to take over his business legacy, I suppose he had the idea I might handle doing the things he didn't get to do owing to that business."

"So you went to Asia?"

He nodded saying, "Japan and China, a good bit of India."

"And that changed you?" She questioned struggling to pick up the connecting theme in his story."

He watched George running ahead of them, "It certainly opened my eyes. The eastern thought is constructed around contemplation. I find that useful in my own work." He said adding, "The tendency to think through matters legal and otherwise is often lost on others though."

Mary thought a few of the titles on his shelf now made a certain sense. "So as we've shared this very pleasant walk, you have been all the while thinking of the tangles of work."

He glanced over and seeing her smirk he amended his answer stating, "Only some of the time."

 **.~.~.~.~.**

Urging Mary to take a seat on an empty bench, Alexsander strolled over to a nearby stand purchasing a large candy floss. He presented the bright pink treat to a clearly tickled George. Squatting down he showed the boy how to pull a bit of the treat free for consumption. Within moments George was mimicking his actions eating the treat with a pure glee.

Watching them, Mary felt a sliver of regret that the idea of taking George for a simple treat, like candy floss, had never occurred to her. Admittedly motherhood had always struck Mary as an ambiguous concept. She had never quite figured out what one did with a small child beyond sitting them on your lap and reading them stories.

Yanking a clump of candy floss free, Alexsander rose and strolled back toward the bench. He extended it toward Mary offering, "Here."

"No thank you." Mary demurred vaguely horrified at the notion of being seen consuming such a food.

Alexsander plucked the floss into his mouth vowing, "Your loss." The two then sat silently for a time, while Alexsander consumed the candy floss, Mary all the time trying to pretend she was not sitting there watching a grown man eating a child's treat.

When Alexsander finished he removed his handkerchief, rubbing his fingers over the cloth. Returning the cloth to his pocket he rested his arm atop the bench admitting, "I do have a bit of news. I'm to meet Henry Talbot next week."

Mary frowned at the mention of the name, unhappy Henry was sullying yet another moment in her life. "Whatever for?"

"He would like to discuss matters."

"He would like to dictate matters." Mary insisted her voice becoming colder and her frown deepening the lines around her mouth.

"I sense he is a man rather used to getting his way." Alexsander hedged agreeably. "And it is best we understand what his expectations are in this matter." He spoke plainly trying to nudge her toward the wisdom of his approach. "I trust you would not like to attend the meeting."

"You trust correctly."

Alexsander waited a moment watching George before adding, "It would do well for you to select someone from your family to attend."

"Whatever for?" She said with a ever present chilliness she seemed reluctant to surrender. "You are my representative."

He nodded acknowledging her words before noting, "I have met you twice. You would do well to have someone of stronger acquaintance in the meeting. Someone who can utilize more than legalese to argue your position," He said hoping to use logic to disarm her obvious concerns.

"I suppose that does make a certain sense." She granted begrudgingly. "Tom Branson can attend in my stead."

"I had come to understand he and Mr. Talbot were solid friends."

Mary glanced over at him trying to discern what precisely he knew. She said only, "Tom will do it. He understands family."

"Perhaps your father or mother."

She shook her head quickly decidedly, "No I hope as much as possible to avoid involving them in this fiasco."

"And you are very sure of Branson's loyalty?"

"Completely."

He nodded before rising from the bench calling to George, "Come my lad let the stone skipping commence."

 **.~.~.~.~.**

Mary sat contentedly on the bench watching Alexsander squatting down instructing George in the apparently very important art of skipping stones. George was watching him with hungry interest. For a moment she swore the brunette hair turned suddenly blonde and she could almost believe that she heard a much cherished voice congratulating the boy calling, "That's my chap!"

But of course George wasn't Alexsander's chap. Just as George had never been Henry or Robert's chap. George was only Matthew Crawley's chap. She'd been insistent on that fact. It was the one indulgence she would let no one violate. The few times Henry had tried, she had quickly corrected him. George was not a Talbot, no he had a father… She had made certain there was not a single second Henry thought he could ever be George's father.

Even now watching George giggling so happily, having such fun with another man felt traitorous to her husband's memory... Matthew should be the one schooling George, the one raising George. Oh she realized it would not be, could never be, but that did not mean she could not wish it could be. She thought she would go on wishing that to her grave.

But if Alexsander was…. Oh she couldn't even wish hard enough for that to be, even as her rationale mind insisted it could not possibly be. But if he was well everything would be so very different. Hope was always dangerous, but she felt it dawning in her….even as she resisted its pull, like a siren fearing to drown amid the rocking waves.

She would have to be creative, she realized. She would have to invent reasons to see Alexsander. That would be no chore. She had not been bored in his company. Alexsander was an amusing and interesting companion.

Worryingly though Henry matter loomed before her like am irksome phantom. She had been cautious. There was much Henry did not even suspect about her past. Even in the heat of passion and at the warmest of their shared moments she had been very cautious about just how much she revealed to him.

The one lesson she had learned from the Carlisle affair had been to betray nothing. Henry had never known of her scandal, or of her Liverpool weekend, she was determined her barrister would likewise know nothing of those moments. Matthew had been the only man it had been safe to share all with. No, even if somehow Alexsander was her Matthew even then she could say nothing… Never again she decided would she betray any sins lest they be used against her.

George's laugh sudden and loud caused her to look up and across the lawn to where he and Alexsander were lobbing rocks, watching them skip along the water's surface. The sound warmed her and made her eager to dismiss her gloomier concerns.

For now, she decided, it seemed enough to tarry with Alexsander and George on a golden afternoon. Later she could sort out what mattered and what did not. And so she rose from the bench, walking toward the sun and the duo playing near the water.

 **.~.~.~.~.**

Parking his Bentley alongside the curb **,** Alexsander crossed to the passenger side to help Mary out of the car. After helping her from the vehicle, he leaned down lifting George out, toting him to the curb where he placed the boy on his feet. George giggled delightedly even as he turned to run into the house.

Sensing her son's intent Mary cautioned, "George."

George looked from his mother to Alexsander confusedly for a moment before saying, "Oh yes." Straightening his posture he walked over to Alexsander stating, "Thank you so very much. I had a perfectly wonderful time."

"I did too," Alexsander affirmed reaching out and tousling George's hair. The boy giggled once more before turning and retreating up the stairs and into the house.

Watching her son Mary shook her head admitting, "I think my father is overdoing his matters." She shrugged helplessly observing, "Still I suppose exceedingly polite bests indecorous."

Alexsander merely nodded falling in step beside Mary as they climbed the steps to the house. "So what are your plans for this Valentine evening?"

"Well I was supposed to be attending a dinner at Lady Mabel Fox Lane and Lord Tony Gillingham's home this evening, but apparently they are not spending a great deal of time together at the moment." Mary said stepping into the foyer smiling and greeting the butler.

Alexsander chuckled dryly acknowledging, "I understand that is a result of him spending a weekend at Brighton with a young lady who does not particularly favor Lady Mabel."

"Interesting," Mary replied quietly as the Butler helped her out of her coat. "However do you know that?"

"My clients keep me well informed on the martial unhappiness of their friends." He said removing his hat and handing his Bowler to the servant. "Wasn't he a suitor of yours?"

"Whatever are you implying?"

"Whatever would I be implying?" He retorted following her into the empty drawing room.

There was a certain guileless to his response that Mary did not entirely trust. "I'm not entirely certain." She admitted uneasily. Curious what he made of the situation she asked, "What do you think of secret weekends at coastal resorts?"

"I'm a barrister," He reminded her taking a seat in a chair before adding bemusedly. "If there were no secret weekends I would be at loose ends a great deal of time."

"But do you approve?" She asked taking a seat on the couch.

"Approve," He considered the word. "Secret weekends? I suppose I should say I do not, but who is to say really."

The vagueness of his words confused Mary causing her to inquire, "Do you believe in martial fidelity?"

"I see precious little of it," He admitted flippantly. "It is an ideal of course." There was dubiousness evident in his tone as he concluded, "As I said my career makes me skeptical of the entire institution."

"You were married once," She reminded him curiously. "Surely you understand the impulse."

He seemed to consider her words a very long time before acknowledging, "I understand the impulse." However barely a second based before he added with the slyest of grins, "Toward marriage and secret weekends." The puckishness of his response was so evident that she had to force a frown, one she found it difficult to maintain. And at length she did not even try, as they engaged in shared chuckling.

 **.~.~.~.~.**


	3. Chapter 3

This was not a chapter I expected to write. But several people wanted a clearer sense of why Mary and Henry didn't work out. That idea took a while for me to work out. Please feed me some feedback.

 **.~.~.~.~.**

" _Hurry up Tom!" Henry called standing at the foot of the stairs of the Dower House impatiently waiting for his best man to emerge. Bouncing his top hat alongside his thigh he beckoned again insisting, "We're going to be late!"_

" _We are not going to be late," Tom replied coming down the stairs. He stopped at the landing saying, "We are going to be absurdly early. Travis probably won't even have the church opened yet." There was a lightness to his tone, an almost coy dismissal of Henry's concern. "And Yorkshire folk do not consider earliness a virtue."_

 _Henry laughed boyishly saying, "Chalk it up to my profession. I am forever racing around, not unlike my cars." He completed the sentence with a quick chuckle as if finding humor even in his own words._

 _Tom noted the enthusiasm in his friend's words before stating, "But that's behind you. The racing…"_

" _Oh yes I suppose." Henry granted thoughtlessly. There was a breeziness about Henry at such times that rather dazzled Tom. Everyone else at Downton was so serious and contemplative. Henry, by comparison, seemed so casual, as if life was merely an overlong dance and he was intent on fox trotting until the last note._

" _Do you think you'll miss it?" In Downton Tom had learned to miss Dublin, in Boston he'd likewise learned to miss Downton. Even if you left a place, a person an idea behind Tom knew you ached for the rest of your days._

" _Racing?" Henry remarked blithely. "I suppose I will, but honestly I think Mary will make me so happy I won't mind very much at all." It was the voice Tom thought of a man who had never known what it meant to miss or mind a thing. "Come on, come on," Henry cried with puppyish energy, "Let's go I cannot wait to see my bride!" And he had joyfully tugged Tom out the door and toward the car._

 **.~.~.~.~.**

Tom came awake with a jolt glancing around him nervously. The warmth of the sunshine streaming through the window must have caused him to drift off, he realized. Swallowing a yawn, he straightened up trying to steel himself for the afternoon ahead.

He had assumed the meeting with Henry and the barrister was likely to be a strain. He had prepared for that problem. But last night both Mary and Rosamund had pulled him aside. Mary had casually mentioned the barrister resembled Matthew. Later Rosamund had told him in the bluntest of terms that Alexsander Crawley was the spitting image of his late brother-in-law.

Tom's initial instinct had been to laugh, it had sounded just the sort of false dramatics Rosamund loved to engage in. "Aunt Rosamund is the sort who if she walks into a salon without drama, must create some of her own." Sybil had once observed with an affectionate smile. A look alike twin divorce attorney seemed the plotting of the sort of Victorian novel Rosamund would curl up on the sofa reading. But Rosamund had produced a newspaper clipping with a grainy image of Alexsander Crawley that supported her claim. The eye patch and the beard made an actual grasp of Alexsander's appearance more questionable, but the likeness was certainly present.

And then Tom had really, really wanted to laugh because honestly it was just Mary's luck. Mary was shaking off an unwanted spouse, only to hire a barrister who was the likeness of her much loved dead husband. That was the kind of problem Mary Crawley had. Tom had then asked for a large whisky barely able to restrain himself from marveling that a poor Irishman had somehow become part of an aristocratic English drawing room comedy come to life.

Whatever alcohol infused humor Tom had experienced, the night before had drained away with the dawn. Tom had realized this day he would most likely hurt a real friend. As much as he loved Mary, Edith and Rose and truly he loved them as sisters, he had missed having a man about the place. Oh he and Robert got along well enough. Well as well as they were ever going to get along. But he missed having a man of his own age. And he had thought Henry Talbot fit the bill nicely.

Of course later he realized he had just assumed that since he had found Henry pleasant and charming and fun, then of course Mary would feel the very same. And from there he had become a sort of proponent of their relationship. In his enthusiasm he had forgotten that he was both Mary's friend and Henry's friend and thought of himself as Mary and Henry's friend. From those weak foundations, they had entered a marriage and a great deal of pain had ensued. Now he was accompanying both of them on the road to the end of that pain. Today was going to be long and brutal, and waiting for the attorney to summon him, Tom only wished it was already finished.

 **.~.~.~.~.**

Alexsander reached down, opening his pocket watch. He saw a quarter of an hour had passed since Beatrice had informed him Thomas Branson had arrived. Taking a sip from the cool tea sitting on his desk, he rose and stepped toward his office door. By habit he stopped by the mirror nearest the door. Without conscious thought he reached to straighten his gray flecked tie. Buttoning his coat he inhaled a breath before opening the door. "Mr. Branson," He called needlessly, as aside from Beatrice, there was only one person in the waiting area.

Branson was a small compact man and his hello betrayed his country of origin in an instant. He strode purposefully into the office taking the chair opposite Alexsander's desk.

"Can I offer you tea or coffee or something stronger?" Alexsander asked stepping behind his desk.

"Nothing."

"Very well then," He said nodding to Beatrice who had expectantly come to the door. "I assume you are aware of the purpose of this meeting." Tom merely nodded. "And are you comfortable with that purpose?"

"I'm comfortable supporting Mary."

That Lady Mary had referred to Mr. Branson as someone she trusted implicitly had surprised Alexsander. As little as he knew about the Crawley's even he knew their son-in-las was an Irish republican. He had a vague half-memory of a dinner time discussion of the topic at several parties he'd attended during the war. Alexsander had no disdain for radical politics, but he had supposed that the daughters of Robert Crawley might have. Still the man sounded sincere enough. Still, one nagging problem remained and he felt it prudent to mention that issue asking, "And your friendship with Talbot?"

Tom looked slightly surprised inquiring, "Did Lady Mary tell you about that?"

"Lady Mary only told me that she trusted you implicitly."

Tom's expression softened, "A high compliment from her."

Alexsander reached for his pen, "I knew of your friendship through my investigations."

"And you don't trust me," He said not disguising the pique in his tone.

"I am aware that this places you in an uneasy position, does it not?"

Tom took a breath before granting, "It does. But I mean to be loyal to Mary."

"Very well then," Alexsander granted continuing in a milder tone, "I wanted you to come early so we can discuss strategy." Tom nodded but made no comment leading Alexsander to continue, "I have never met Mr. Talbot, and my knowledge of him only comes from Lady Mary and the newspapers."

"Two entirely different perspectives."

"Indeed," Alexsander agreed reaching for his pipe. "As such I would be grateful for any information that you could offer."

"He's an interesting character," He stated after a long silence. "I don't know that I can say I know Henry, in the same way I'm not sure Mary can say she knows Henry." Seeming to warm to his thoughts Tom relaxed back against the chair. "He's a bit of a chameleon really. Well, I suppose we all are," He emitted a slight chuckle admitting, "I'm an Irish socialist living on the estate of a British Earl…but Henry is different." He waited for Alexsander to ask the inevitable follow up question, instead Alexsander lit his pipe clearly comfortable waiting for whatever answer was to come. "Henry and I talked about opening a garage, we secured a building, and ordered the cars, everything. A few months later he up and left and went back to racing."

"Was he unhappy with the business?"

"He didn't say so," Tom answered slightly defensively. "Just slaps me on the shoulder and hello partner one day and then gradually he was showing up less and less, and then we realized he was spending days at the track."

"Is that so surprising?" Alexsander challenged surprised by the frustration he noticed in Tom's voice. "From what I've understood leaving racing was an impulsive reaction to a close friend's demise. Is it so surprising he'd return?"

"If it was only the racing I'd agree." Tom stated firmly. "But it's not only the racing…" He seemed too hesitated for only a moment before saying, "When he first courted Mary I'll admit I was probably more taken with him than she was." He glanced up curious if Alexsander's expression had changed, and found it had not, he simply continued puffing on his pipe. "He liked cars, his aunt seemed a thoroughly nice sort, and he seemed an interesting chap." He looked down for a moment before saying, "I suppose…I was thinking a bit of my Sybil. I guess I thought I'd help this man who loves cars court this Earl's daughter…it seems a bit silly." He paused seeming to want to consider his words carefully, "But Mary isn't Sybil and Henry isn't me either."

"Meaning?"

"I would have done anything for Sybil. Anything she asked." He sighed explaining, "I'm raising my child among English aristocrats because I regard her that highly."

"And you believe Henry didn't regard Lady Mary that highly." Alexsander said removing the pipe from his mouth.

"I don't know, maybe he did…" He shook his head as if confused by his own thoughts. "The problem was he just regarded himself more."

Alexsander exhaled a smoke ring arguing, "That's hardly unusual. My youngest sister swears all men are swine and worry solely about our own wants and needs."

Tom grinned and seemed to relax saying, "Sounds like a smart woman."

"I'm very fond of her." Alexsander admitted pulling his pipe from his mouth and propping it in the ashtray. He leaned slightly forward rephrasing Tom's words stating, "So him returning to racing cars suggested that he had low regard for his wife?"

"It showed he had no understanding of Mary," Tom amended adding off handedly, "But actually it started before that… Downton is in rural Yorkshire. Before the marriage he'd visited the house maybe a half dozen times. I assumed he understood the hold the estate had on his wife. I was wrong."

Alexsander seemed to consider Tom's words before observing, "Some would say a London man had every right to expect his wife to move to the city with him."

"That would make a certain sense," Tom acknowledged evenly. "But Henry was cash poor married to a woman whose wealth depended upon maintaining the estate." Tom smiled adding, "Downton is her whole life." Alexsander frowned causing Tom to explain, "The pigs, sheep and agriculture it's all very real to her. She means to keep the estate going for George. And that's no easy thing."

Alexsander reached for his pipe allowing him a moment to contemplate Tom's words before predicting, "And Talbot didn't like that."

"I don't think he ever understood it or ever much tried." Branson's aggravation seemed to increase the longer he spoke.

"And Lady Mary did she understand him?"

Tom paused a moment before saying, "I don't think she tried much either."

"Quite a pair then."

 **.~.~.~.~.**

 _Clutching the novel in his hand Tom swallowed a yawn. Normally he'd wait until the morning_ _to shelve the novel he'd just finished. Robert though was performing one of his infrequent log inventories, and before dinner had pointedly reminded Tom that he'd had his current novel a fortnight already. Tom was not entirely certain if that was a criticism or a mere notification, Robert spoke in circles at times. Still he'd thought that he had noticed an definite pique in Robert's tone. So after dinner Tom had skipped the drawing room in favor of curling up with a book in his bedroom. It hadn't seemed much of a loss. Evenings at Downton had been quiet of late. Henry claimed headaches and went off with his evening Scotch sitting alone in his corner of the drawing room. Mary too seemed in a strange mood of late, chatty and witty at meals and reserved and silent as a cloistered nun at other times._

 _Tom had concluded the doings of Mr. Bristling and padded down to the library nearing midnight. Seeing a familiar figure sprawled across the sofa Tom heard himself asking, "I thought you would have already gone up."_

 _Henry glanced up from the newspaper he was perusing. "I did and then I came down."_

" _Is your headache better?" Henry had mentioned having pains at dinner._

 _Henry frowned momentarily before smiling in realization. "Oh I didn't have a headache."_

" _But you said…"_

" _Oh Tom I simply could not stomach another evening discussing pigs and poultry." Henry said reaching for his Scotch._

" _Is it so bad?" Tom questioned sliding the novel back on the shelf. Walking over to the reading logbook he took the pen Robert left beside the log and dated the book's return._

 _Henry sighed saying glumly, "It's not that it is always so bad, its only that it is never very good. All this concern over some pigs," He shook his head removing his cigarettes from his dressing gown pocket."Tom I am accustomed to evenings with nice music, smart people talking about cars, and the doings of society and such things. My aunt has a very progressive salon. Writers, music and the best kind of people…. I suppose I should have listened to her. She only accepted invitations to Downton when she needed a rest.." Clicking his lighter Henry continued staring into the flame, "I knew of course that Robert was a more conservative sort, but I could never imagine a family like the Crawley's would spend their evenings discussing pig breeding, farm prices and land cultivation." Releasing the nicotine from his lungs he formed an O with his mouth watching a smoke ring lazily float across the air. "During our honeymoon Mary and I motored across the Rivera. We danced, we attended musical concerts, she shopped, we talked with the very right sort of people." He took another draw on his cigarette saying, "I could just see how well that sort of life suited Mary. Now here she wastes herself worrying over the fertility of animals and the price of potatoes."_

 _Tom had taken a seat in a chair and leaned forward admitting,"I understand. Believe me as a socialist it stuns me that even, now when I am focusing on my writing, I still worry over the land production and agricultural successes of an aristocratic family." He admitting shaking his head at the convolutions life seemed to demand. "But you knew of Mary's work," Tom reminded him trying for a light tone. "I heard her tell you herself of her passion for work."_

" _Yes, yes, she did. She did." Henry conceded seeming to grow more energetic from the nicotine. "But all the time she was telling me she was wearing a lovely gown and we were sipping champagne. She spoke of a world but I never saw her in that role." As if anticipating Tom's next comment he added, "And yes I visited Downton but I never ventured far, and her talk about running the estate, being the land agent it seemed more a fantasy than a reality." He smiled but it fell away from his face and he heard himself confessing, "I suppose I thought her talk of work was just talk."_

" _It's not," Tom vowed stating, "Aside from young George I think it's the thing that she cares about most."_

" _And in a few years George will be off to school."_

 _The quickness of the reply assured Tom, Henry had passed right over the fact he was not listed amid his wife's most important interests. Still Tom supposed he had best reply, to avoid the topic Henry must want to avoid. "Yes I suppose." Tom granted struggling to imagine sending a young lad off to school at so young an age. George was such a tender, sensitive boy and Tom had heard enough stories about the schools to fear how his nephew would fare in such an environment._

" _Don't you see," He said grinning, "Then I will have my wife to myself. "_

 _Tom rose and crossed the room feeling a sudden desire for a drink._

" _Perhaps we can travel more then." Henry mused thoughtfully. "I'd like to take her about the continent a bit. Maybe," he suggested brightening, "We can take a place in London."_

" _For the season?" Tom had always thought the season the worst kind of nonsense and already saw rows with Mary and Cora over his conviction not to ever let Sybbie engage in such ridiculousness._

" _For most of the year." Henry said his mood becoming suddenly optimistic. He'd found a vision of the years to come that he liked and he was warming to it. "We needn't spend that much time here."_

 _Tom turned around facing Henry and saying, "Henry that is never going to happen. Ever." Tom didn't believe it was possible to overemphasize the impossibility of Mary ever spending months and months away from Downton._

 _Henry's smile literally fell from his face, "What?"_

" _Mary is never going to leave Downton. A trip, for the season certainly… but not for any time beyond that." He was staggered that Henry seemed so gob smacked by something so obviously fundamental to Mary's whole personality._

 _Henry looked crestfallen as if they were both in the nursery and Tom had yanked away his favorite toy. "But surely…"_

" _Mary will never leave Downton, god how can you not know that by now?" Tom found himself losing patience with Henry's inability to understand his wife._

" _Sybil was happy in Dublin with you." It was a weak sounding justification but Tom could tell Henry would cling to it with all his conviction._

" _Sybil and Mary are, were entirely different women." Tom said pouring himself a brandy. "Sybil loved Downton, she missed it when we lived in Dublin and I think had she lived she would have enjoyed us visiting quite often." As always whenever he mentioned Sybil he felt a lump forming in his throat, at the wrongness of her absence. "But Mary feels about Downton in an altogether different way, with Sybil it was fond affection, cotton cocooned contentment. Mary it's almost a part of her blood, it certainly defines her identity."_

" _I see," Henry said puffing on his cigarette. His tone had grown cold as if deciding how to adapt to this information. "Well she'll need to adapt. That's what marriage is adapting. She'll have to fit my needs in…Perhaps," He suggested sounding more hopeful, "This is simply the pain all newly married couples endure." He smiled as if deciding it was that very pain. "In time we shall grow accustomed to one another and have a jolly marriage."_

 _It seemed to Tom the kind of simplistic solution that belonged in a fairy book that he'd read to Sybbie more than the mind of a grown man._

" _Do you know I already feel loads better," Henry vowed rising to his feet. "I think I can go up now." He grinned at Tom then turned and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him._

 _Left alone Tom found himself staring at the door, feeling a disquieting realization that he as Mary's brother-in-law understood her on a far deeper level than her husband seemed to. He tried to brush the thought aside telling himself it was early days… that Henry had decades to grow familiar with his wife's behaviors. Yet, for the first time he could not smile at Henry's breezy tone and brash confidence._

 **.~.~.~.~.**

"I do thank you for coming," Alexsander said appreciatively. "I think I have a better hold on matters."

Tom chuckled but the laugh seemed borne of frustration rather than mirth. "I'm glad someone does."

"I still see no cause that will hold up in court." Lest he be misunderstood Alexsander quickly added, "I recognize the limitations in the divorce codes but they exist."

Tom seemed to weigh this saying, "You hope to persuade Henry to give cause."

"I have no hopes or expectations." Alexsander said resting his head back against the chair. "Today I merely want to listen to Mr. Talbot."

"And?" Tom prodded feeling more should be said.

"I know what my client wants. I need to know what her husband wants." Tossing the pen on the desk Alexsander explained, "And that may if we are very lucky lead me to understand how to get what Lady Mary wants."

Tom nodded his head seeing sense in the barrister's words. "I suppose that makes sense." A knock sounded at the door. "Yes Beatrice."

The woman had barely cracked the door whispering, "Sir a Lord Grantham is here to speak to you. He insists on seeing you, very politely."

Alexsander glanced over at Tom who merely shrugged his shoulders. "See Lord Grantham in," He said adjusting his tie and rising to his feet. "Good morning, Sir." He said gesturing toward the chair next to Tom. Tom quickly reached over snatching his hat. "We were not expecting you."

"Yes I'm sure you were not," Robert turned casting a disapproving glance in his son-in-law's direction. "But Mary may be a grown woman, a married woman, but she is and always will be my daughter."

"Of course," Alexsander said sitting down. "Lady Mary told me it was likely you'd come."

A smile appeared and quickly disappeared from Robert's face. "She knows me very well."

 ** _.~.~.~.~._**

 _Henry waltzed into the club was clearly reveling in being in the company of other drivers. "You won't hear talk of sheep and pigs tonight," He announced grinning and slapping Tom on the back._

" _I expect not," Tom admitted guessing distractedly, "More likely engines and race times."He tried and failed to imagine Mary in this setting._

 _Henry grinned teasing, "The most interesting of topics, obviously."_

" _Obviously," Tom agreed glancing around at the furnishings. Admittedly, he had never been to a racing drivers club before. Nevertheless, this decor seemed more akin to the kind of clubs Robert frequented. "I had no idea the club was this luxurious."_

 _Henry glanced over his shoulder chiding humorously, "I told you it was black tie."_

" _Since I left Ireland, virtually every dinner is white or black tie." Tom noted wryly deciding the place was extremely posh. So English, Tom decided, that men who spent their days in grease, working in garages would don black tie by night and sit in luxurious surroundings just so no one would ever forget how large their bank book was. Inferiority not classism, Tom decided, was the true weakness of the British. The entire nation had an ever present, all consuming fear that anyone might think they were poorer than they actually were._

" _I'm going to say hello to a few friends," Henry said dashing toward the other side of the room calling, "Frederick how wonderful to see you!"_

 _Henry belonging to a place like this confused Tom. He understood wanting to spend time with people in the same field. Still most writers met up at cheap pubs for a pint or two. He'd bet a fair number of drivers did the same. Yet, Henry opted for a posh club. Forget about the number of prats he'd likely encounter in this room. The economics of the club didn't make any sense._

 _Henry wasn't poor but the garage wasn't doing nearly well enough for the kind of cash he was throwing around. The new car, the racing trips, and now this club… Tom had not asked questions, it was not his place. Mary had never been mean about money; Henry was always well tailored and shod. Still, this seemed excessive. Mary might not be mean but she was not wasteful either. This kind of club struck Tom as beyond what Mary would deem necessary. And Henry hadn't won a single race since his return. So where the money was coming from was a mystery. That night watching Henry order expensive wines and ordering a box of the best cigars… questions began nagging at Tom in a way that continued even after they left the club. Questions he could not ask, but ones he could not stop swirling around his head._

 **.~.~.~.~.**

"I do understand your concerns Lord Grantham ," Alexsander stated patiently. He had spent the last half hour listening to the elder man's concerns. "No one is more eager for reform in the marriage laws than I am. But we must prepare the meal with the available ingredients."

"You are telling me my daughter may have no recourse but to remain married to the race car driver."

"I am most certainly not saying that." Alexsander amended careful that Robert understood his meaning. "It has been my experience that generally when a woman leaves a man the man promptly delivers the necessary causes."

Robert put his hand over his eyes pronouncing the topic, "Tawdry."

"Very," Alexsander granted flatly, "But for your daughter fortuitous."

Robert sighed dismissively even while offering, "How may I help."

"Well," Alexsander said unevenly before stating decidedly, "It was Lady Mary's suggestion that you not speak."

"What?" Robert straightened up seemingly deeply offended.

"That is the best choice." Tom granted bobbing his head in agreement.

Robert seemed about to say something, instead he merely crossed his arms rocking slightly back and forth in chair, clearly stewing in his anger.

"I'm actually glad you are here," Alexsander said reaching for a folder. "I have uncovered some information that I want to share with you." He opened the folder scanning the documents. "I've already shared this with Lady Mary, but I am afraid it also concerns you as well Lord Grantham."

Alexsander pushed the folder toward Robert. Leaning forward Robert took the file and began paging through it. As he turned the pages the pallor drained from his face. "Good Lord," he exclaimed looking away from the documents.

"Lady Mary has asked me to address the issue with Mr. Talbot." He proceeded suggesting, "It's a bit unseemly best to let me address the matter."

Robert nodded gratefully stating, "You will stop this?"

"My secretary is writing letters to all the individuals and institutions named in the file."

"I suppose that will work…" Robert seemed dazed admitting, " I just never thought."

Alexsander retrieved the folder saying, "Many people behave on the assumption, people will not think they would…"

Robert seemed about to say something when Beatrice cracked open the door announcing, "Mr. Talbot is here sir."

 **.~.~.~.~.**

Henry Talbot strode into the room calling in greeting, "Tom, Robert…" Extending his hand he introduced himself to Alexsander, "Henry Talbot."

"Alexsander Crawley." He replied gesturing to four chairs arranged in a circle on the opposite side of the office. "Can I offer you tea?"

"Are we women in a sewing circle," Henry teased jovially. "Do you have anything stronger?"

Alexsander glanced over toward the door requesting, "Beatrice can you bring some tea and biscuits?"

She nodded saying, "I have already prepared the water. I'll only be a moment."

Alexsander strolled toward the table behind his desk asking, "What would you like Mr. Talbot?"

"Scotch?" He answered hopefully.

 **.~.~.~.~.**

Once Beatrice poured the tea she crossed the room closing the door behind her. Only then did Alexsander turn reminding Henry, "Mr. Talbot you requested this meeting. Perhaps you can tell us what you intended…."

"I did," Henry agreed adding in false humor, "I thought I would speak to you, hopefully my wife. I did not expect a family gathering."

"I felt it would be useful to have all interested parties present."

Henry shrugged his shoulders seeming to find the rationale acceptable. Reaching into his coat pocket he asked; "Mind if I smoke?" Even before Alexsander could answer Henry removed a pack. Tapping on the packet he removed a cigarette. "I wanted to discuss the ridiculousness of this separation." He said tugging a lighter out of his coat pocket. "I mean no offense but you are a barrister, and I have no intention of submitting to any case for divorce." He completed the sentence by lighting his cigarette inhaling the nicotine, and then exhaling a plume of smoke.

"You and your wife have been separated three months." Alexsander said as if seeking clarification.

Henry nodded stating, "Three very long months. I miss my Mary very much."

"And I believe your wife requested this separation?"

Henry took another puff on his cigarette agreeing, "She asked me to leave Downton, my bags were packed for me. Between Mary and the Butler I was kicked bag and baggage from my home."

"Downton is hardly your home." Robert interjected crossly.

Alexsander prompted asking, "And why do you believe she took that action?"

"I haven't a single clue," Henry said flatly. "She had a great list of reasons. None of which seemed to me sufficient to lead to a separation much less a divorce." As if wanting to clarify his point he quickly added, "I have no interest in divorce," Henry replied explaining, "It's not something that is done among our sort."

"Really," Alexsander said pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "Several of my clients would be very surprised to learn that."

Henry released another puff of smoke shrugging, "There are always rebels. My wife is not among that sort."

"And yet she is seeking a divorce."

"A fit of pique that will be remedied," Henry coolly dismissed the notion. "My wife is not particularly good at knowing what she truly wants. As such she must rely on my instincts as a husband to guide her."

Tom frowned demurring, "I would not agree with that characterization."

"I have made her Downton's land agent precisely because of her decisiveness." Robert echoed frowning at the concept.

"A position you both are close enough to intervene should she step to far afield." Henry observed taking another puff on his cigarette. "And a position that keeps her right under your powerful thumb."

Alexsander turned toward Talbot asking, "I understand you do not care for Downton."

"I do not care for living there." Henry amended smushing his cigarette out in the ash tray. "I have no objection to the estate, simply to being forced to spend my every living moment hearing about it."

"Then perhaps marrying the mother of the heir was unwise." Robert interjected frowning at the idea.

"You are still living; George is a very young lad." Henry retorted firmly. "We could easily take up full time residence in a decade or so."

"A decade or so," Robert exclaimed sounding shocked. "Surely you understand that we must work to preserve and upkeep the estate. "Due to George's age it is likely that Mary will be caretaker of Downton for some time."

Henry rolled his eyes, "I will never understand the lifelong duty Downton seems to entail."

"As opposed to racing cars," Robert replied drily.

"Actually I would like to explore that," Alexsander admitted reaching for his cup of tea. "As I understand it most car races occur on the weekend." Seeing Henry's quick nod, he interjected adding. "Then you were away many weekends?"

"Yes and on my own," He admitted irritably. "My wife did not see fit to accompany me."

Alexsander scribbled something on his notepad before inquiring, "Has Lady Mary ever accompanied you to your racing since the time of your marriage."

Henry glanced disdainfully at the barrister assenting, "I am sure you know she has not."

"And why is that?"

Henry rolled his eyes, "The Matthew myth."

"My God!" Robert glanced up his face gone scarlet.

"That's a callous way to put it," Tom said seemingly mildly, despite the fact his face was going scarlet as well.

"I presume," Alexsander said formally and seemingly oblivious to the other men's anger. "That you refer to Lady Mary's first husband."

"The saintly ever perfect one." Henry grumbled shifting in his seat, "The one I could never hope to emulate much less equal." Frustration as well as anger reverberated in his tone, and he clenched and unclenched his fists. "I had hoped a time apart would help Mary see the futility in clinging to his memory."

"And do you believe that has worked?"

"Clearly it has not." Henry's tone seemed to be slipping from sarcasm into anger.

"And why do you believe it has failed to do so." Alexsander said keeping his tone determinedly mild.

Henry did not spare a second before replying, "Her work. I think it distracts her."

"Work can be distracting." Alexsander agreed causing Tom to snort.

"I don't object to a woman having an occupation," Henry added as if eager to correct a mistaken impression. "Mary is an intelligent woman and I can imagine merely going to parties and out into society would leave her terribly bored."

"A very modern view," Alexsander granted evenly. "What then is your objection?"

"She places loyalty to a fading pile of bricks, pigs and sheep above her husband's happiness." Henry explained plainly. "She worries more about if a sheep will thrive than if I win a race." He shook his head arguing, "Her focus on work and aversion to racing is all outside the boundaries of a marriage."

"You've mentioned racing several times now," Alexsander observed mildly. "Yet when you married had you not given Lady Mary every reason to believe you were finished with racing as a career."

Sighing Henry agreed, "I suppose I did. But she should have known I would want to return."

"Just as you perhaps should have known she'd want to continue on with her work at Downton."

Henry leaned forward slightly pulling the ash tray, "I suppose."

Alexsander interceded suggested, "Several times now you've spoken of Lady Mary's duties as your wife. Perhaps you could explain what you feel are Lady Mary's responsibilities."

Henry sighed crossing his arms acknowledging, "I know she has a certain responsibility to Downton. I know she's George's mother. But she's also my wife. And a wife's role is to support the husband."

"And you feel Lady Mary failed to support you, in what specific way?"

"She refused to go to my races." Henry snapped angrily. "The thing that matters the most to me and she refused to go."

"I am sure," Alexsander retorted coolly. "You mean the next most important thing next to Lady Mary and young George."

"George is not terribly important to me." Henry said glancing away, "That was Lady Mary's choice…Oh I could carry him about now and then, I could give him piggy backs and if we were out I was expected to keep an eye on him. But beyond that no…I was always reminded that George was Matthew Crawley's son."

"Noted," Alexsander said scribbling a note on his pad. "So you feel Lady Mary did not offer you sufficient support in your racing career."

"None whatsoever."

Tom groaned reminding him, "Her husband died in a car crash."

"And that is very sad. But she does not say a word about riding in a car. I fail to see why my car racing is seen as so odious."

"I believe that the first time Lady Mary attended one of your car races, one of the drivers was killed. Is that not correct?" Alexsander asked glancing at his notes.

"Charlie Rogers," Henry said glancing down at the cigarette in his hand. "He was my closest friend."

"And after that crash did you not assure Lady Mary you were done with car racing?"

 **.~.~.~.~.**

 _It was nearing six-thirty when Tom arrived at the garage. He'd driven over to York to attend a garage closing parts sale. He had at least 12 good tires and a half dozen_ _carburetors. Not a bad day's business he thought as he pulled in to the empty bay door._

 _Stepping out of the car he reached in the back seat for the boxes of carburetors when a voice said, "Was the sale worth the trip?" Talbot's voice sounded more skeptical than curious. Henry, Tom had quickly learned, was not particularly apt at procuring supplies or addressing customer calls. He was cultivating a side trade with racing car drivers. The angle was interesting enough, but Tom felt not as profitable as a building a stronger customer sales trade. Talbot's aunt should have been a conduit to a whole host of clients for the car trade. Yet, Henry appeared disinterested in exploring that aspect. Tom had thought to focus primarily on repairs leaving the sales angle to Henry. He was quickly learning that was not a good decision._

 _Walking over to the car Henry was working on, a racing car unsurprisingly, Tom said, "I didn't see an order for this type of repair," Tom questioned wondering if he'd missed the order. He tended toward meticulousness in his work, and the notion he'd missed a significant receipt bothered him._

" _I filled it out myself," Henry said distractedly searching through the tool chest._

 _Tom looked down at the sea of car parts littered across the floor. "A job like that will take half the night," Tom said feeling confused. "You won't have half a chance of making dinner."_

 _Henry seized a wrench holding it up delightedly. "A ha!"_

" _Did you hear what I said?"_

" _Yes, yes." Henry said reaching to grab his cigarette. After taking a quick puff he dropped it to the floor smushing it beneath his toe. "I am sure Mrs. Patmore can fetch me a sandwich when I get home."_

 _Tom was always puzzled why the family believed it was no trouble asking the cook to fix another meal due to their whims. "But Mary has an early meeting. She'll be asleep by the time you get finished here." He said staring at the pieces of equipment spread out beside the car._

" _I don't think Mary will find that a great loss." Picking up the wrench he confessed, "We don't seem to have much to talk about these days. Cars bore her to tears and well…"_

" _Go on," Tom urged him._

" _I don't want to complain but…."_

" _Go on."_

" _How do you stand it? Henry implored seriously. "Night after night. People going to parties. People having nice dinners. People doing things. And meanwhile there we sit at poky Downton discussing the pigs and the poultry. Doesn't it drive you mad?" Tom remained silent causing Henry to continue, "You've lived in Dublin and Boston. How can you bear it?"_

 _Tom shoved his hands deep in his pockets saying, "I bear it because Mary makes me laugh nearly every day, I bear it because seeing Robert and Tia makes me smile, because Cora who is nothing like my mam somehow reminds me more and more of my mam. I bear it because I love watching George conning Thomas into piggy back rides. Sure there are things I don't like. But I like family. And somehow the Crawleys have become my family."_

 _Henry lowered himself to the ground. "I don't know I suppose for me family would be me Mary and our children," He paused a moment before saying, "And George of course." He shook his head saying, "I just never imagined my evenings being wasted on questions like ….Oh did the cows give milk, oh how is the cheese business going, are the pigs getting enough water and slop…" He grimaced as if finding the entire discussion distasteful._

" _So this is your solution?" Tom asked flatly, "Find mechanic jobs to tie up your time."_

" _One of them," Henry admitted. "Maybe a few evenings without me will help Mary reorder her priorities?"_

 _Feeling increasingly frustrated Tom said, "Mary hates game playing. Well," He said hedging a bit acknowledging, "When she's not the one doing it."_

" _What am I supposed to do?" Henry demanded reaching for a rag, "Sit there night after night and pretend?"_

" _You could talk to Mary?"_

" _I've tried, "Henry dropped the wrench on the floor beside the creeper. "We're not really good at that actually. Well not so far anyway."_

" _Well you best work on learning." Tom said flatly, "Instead of sitting around here trying to get this wreck running."_

 _Henry jerked his head upward stating, "It's not a wreck and it will be running beautifully by this weekend."_

 _Staring at the pieces doubtfully Tom asked, "What makes you sure of that."_

" _Because it'll have to be for the race in York."_

" _Which of your lot came to you to fix a car for racing."_

 _Henry smiled as if relieved by the question. "Tom I'm not just fixing a car." He stated pointedly. "I'm fixing the car I intended to race."_

" _Racing," Tom said softly. "You promised Mary you were done with racing."_

" _I shouldn't have promised," He admitted quietly. "And she shouldn't have let me." With that he climbed on the creeper rolling under the car. Glancing down at him, Tom felt that for the first time he was seeing Henry Talbot. And suddenly he was the one grimacing._

 **.~.~.~.~.**

Henry's expression became inscrutable and he puffed on his cigarette seemingly content to watch the smoke uncurling before answering, "I should never have made that promise. I was very moved by my friend's accident. I could not see beyond that moment. At that moment I believed I would never race." He said firmly. "I was not being inconstant to Lady Mary."

"But surely you understand," Robert interrupted speaking coolly. "Given her history Mary could never be happy married to a man racing cars."

"I know she has her opinions about class."

"Oh don't pretend," Robert chided angrily. "This has nothing to do with titles or class."

"Am I really supposed to believe that because of her late husband's demise, I am expected to give up a sport I love?"

"If you intend to remain her husband, yes." Robert said adding, "Not that I believe you should remain married. Your marriage is a greater disaster than any of the car crashes I've seen at your races." He glanced around waiting unsuccessfully for someone to respond to his witticism.

"Not precisely," Alexsander said addressing Henry's question. "Actually Lady Mary has made it very clear to me that your racing was a single issue in a far larger problem."

Henry smirked chuckling as he said, "I am very sure that Mary sees it as such. But as anyone in the family can tell you Mary is the sort of woman who requires guidance." Henry explained toying with the pleat of his pants. "She must be persuaded." Chuckling he offered, "You could hardly imagine the effort it took to convince her to marry me."

"I can only imagine," Alexsander replied frowning.

Seeming to miss the archness in Alexsander's tone, Henry continued, "Robert can tell you it was a family effort."

"And one we all deeply, deeply regret." Robert interjected glancing pointedly at Henry.

Ignoring his father-in-law Henry continued pontificating. "The role of a husband is to guide a wife, to help her see what truly matters. Call me old fashioned," He said in the most self-satisfied of tones. "But that is what I believe."

"Oh I won't call you old fashioned," Alexsander retorted. "I prefer selfish and boorish."

"I say," Henry said straightening his posture.

"No I say," Alexsander stated repeating, "Selfish and boorish."

Robert turned to Tom confiding admiringly. "That was clever. Tom?" He said seeing his son-in-law's attention was focused elsewhere.

 **.~.~.~.~.**

 _The race had been over a good half hour before Henry walked off the track calling, "So I see my wife missed another of my triumphs."_

" _You came in fourth." Tom noted glumly not adding that only seven cars raced._

" _Perhaps it would have been second or even first if I had her support."_

" _Mary not attending is hardly to blame." Tom insisted falling in to step beside Henry._

" _A man ought to be able to rely on his wife for support." Henry insisted not disguising the frustration in his tone._

" _You can hardly be surprised she isn't attending."_

" _Of course I'm not surprised." Henry retorted churlishly. "I've come to anticipate my wife's lack of support or even interest in the most important aspect of my life."_

 _Tom frowned stating, "You could have hardly expected otherwise?"_

" _Of course I expected otherwise." His tone was cool and unemotional, brokering little room for argument. "A wife should support her husband." He opened the door to the office admitting, "But I've become accustomed to the knowledge that apparently my wife feels otherwise."_

" _Of course she feels otherwise," Tom said angrily. "For God's sake Henry her husband died in a blasted car accident. Matthew…"_

" _Matthew Crawley of course," Henry spat bitterly, interrupting his friend's words. "I cannot tell you how utterly and completely sick I am of that man's name." Tom felt his hands curling as if he needed an outlet for his irritation at Henry's words. Still, he forced his tongue to remain silent even as Henry rattled on. "I am certain he was a perfectly nice man but in death he's become this infallible forever righteous paragon of all things virtuous." He reached in his pocket removing his pack of cigarettes. Shaking one out he continued angrily, "You have no idea what it is like to forever find yourself taking second place to a memory." He opened the dressing room door and stepped inside._

" _Is it really Matthew?" Tom had meant to remain silent but the words slipped out unbidden. And in a way he was glad they had. "_

 _Henry spun around "What are you saying?"_

" _I think maybe Mary was right in saying you weren't well suited."_

 **.~.~.~.~.**

"You aren't well suited," Tom was surprised to hear the firmness, the certainty in his words. He'd said it on the track and Henry had ignored him but he meant for Henry to hear him now. He'd come intending to lay all his cards on the table and he supposed it was time to spread them before Henry as best he could.

Henry turned away from Alexsander requesting, "Beg pardon?"

"I said you are not well suited for one another." Tom repeated feeling utter conviction in his voice; he'd passed through the period of doubt. "I don't think you make a good pair. I know you don't," He said meeting Henry's gaze.

Seemingly momentarily deflated Henry sputtered, "But you said we were well suited, you did."

"I did. I know now I was wrong. I thought you could be like me and Sybil but now I see Mary isn't Sybil and you aren't me."

"I believe you were wrong," Henry said seemingly determined to retain his conviction in his marriage. "All couples go through rough patches."

"And aside from the early months of your marriage it's been nothing but rough patches." Tom kept a steady gaze on Henry, wanting to convey his convictions in his words. "All the things Mary said about you both before the wedding have come true. You aren't well suited and you aren't making each other happy."

"I am happy." He said stubbornly, sounding like Marigold when she didn't get the treat she wanted.

"Are you?" Tom challenged. "The racing, the club, the parties is that what really makes you happy?"

"A rough patch," Henry repeated as if by repeating the words he could make them so.

Deciding to ignore Henry's stance Tom leaned forward suggesting, "Do the decent thing…She's not in love with you and has not been in a very long time." Tom spoke softly and calmly. "Give her causes and then the both of you can move on."

"The decent thing would be for my wife to return to our marriage. The decent thing would be for Mary to let go of this ridiculous fear of racing. She must let go of this fantasy of Matthew. Those would be the decent things." Henry sunk back into his chair looking suddenly spent. "I love her. And she can love me, she must be made to love me!" He suddenly fell silent huffing a bit as if he had expended great effort in saying the words he'd said.

"I do not believe that my client shares an interest in your ideas of marriage." Alexsander said flatly.

"She is my wife and as such she must adapt to my expectations." Henry stated meeting Alexsander's gaze. All at once he seemed steely and determined. Smiling he informed the men, "My solicitor has told me that Lady Mary has no grounds for a divorce."

"As of yet she does not," Alexsander granted before quickly amending his statement stating, "As of yet being the operative term."

"There are no grounds and without a cause her petition will be thrown out." Henry insisted flinging the information out as if intending to end the entire matter.

"We've not filed any petition." Alexsander noted smiling as if finding Henry's words extremely pleasant and not even slightly concerning. "When I do file the petition, however, it will not be thrown out."

"And why is that?" Henry's tone seemed equally curious and dubious.

"Because I never lose," A voice intoned coolly. "And I believe per usual you are underestimating me," The men looked up to see Lady Mary Crawley standing in the doorway.

 **.~.~.~.~.**

"Lady Mary," Alexsander rose announcing, "We were not expecting you."

Mary placed her bag on a table by the door crossing the room. "Oh I do love to surprise people."

"Would you like to join us?" Alexsander invited her, rather needlessly for she was already stepping toward the circle of chairs.

"Tom?" Gleaning her meaning Tom rose to stand behind the chair, vacating it for her purposes. "Well isn't this cozy. Now," She said glancing around the circle at each participant, "Where are we?"

"Your man has been beastly to me," Henry complained irritably, before smiling almost moonishly at his wife. "I also told these men how very much I miss my Mary, and how I long to repair this breach in our marriage."

"He also said very negative thing about Downton." Robert noted irritably.

"I don't think we need to be petty." Tom cautioned Robert.

"Are we?" Robert asked sharply the documents and their story still alight in his mind.

Alexsander folded one leg atop the other saying, "As Mr. Talbot stated he asked for a meeting to speak to Lady Mary. Perhaps," He suggested glancing at both Mary then Henry, "We should allow him to do so."

Mary sighed saying, "I see no purpose, but if it will hasten matters I will listen."

"Very well then," Alexsander said glancing over at Henry, "The floor is yours Mr. Talbot."

Henry cleared his throat admitting, "This was not precisely how I imagined this meeting." Mary had taken Tom's seat, which was next to Alexsander and directly across from her husband. He looked up at her saying, "Well then… Mary I love you. I loved you from the moment I saw you coming across the track after Charlie, I suppose that's a macabre way to begin, but for me from that moment I knew I loved you. And even sitting here now I love you still." He took a breath before continuing sliding forward in his chair imploring, "I know we've had our squabbles, but I know we can overcome them, we can be happy my darling if you will only give us a chance."

Alexsander glanced over at Mary, as did Tom and Robert, trying to gauge what her reaction would be. Mary maintained an inscrutable expression saying only, "I explained my feelings in January. They have not changed."

Henry's lips drooped as he said in a dumbfounded tone, "You won't even try."

"I have tried," She said maintaining the dry tone she had adopted some moments beforehand. "I have been trying almost from the first. I no longer see the slightest point of trying."

"But…but we're married." Henry protested glancing around him in confusion.

Robert shook his head stating, "We are in a barrister's office discussing a petition for divorce." He said as if explaining matters to a small child.

"I do not want to be married to you, any longer." Mary said glancing down at her folded hands. "Why you force me to continually repeat that is beyond me."

"Because it isn't what I want." Henry stated glancing around him angrily.

"I believe we have reached an impasse of sorts," Alexsander said glancing at Henry, clearly trying to diffuse the tensions in the room. "There are several ways we may precede," Alexsander offered turning to face Henry. "The first and simplest would be for you to acquiesce to the divorce petition by giving cause."

"I have no intention of doing so." Henry stated instantly.

"Then that makes our situation less comfortable," Alexsander admitted glancing over at Mary. "And I do not wish to engage in an otiose exercise that seems likely to upset both parties." He said turning toward Mary saying, "Lady Mary unless you have further information to impart?"

"Oh no I have nothing further to say," Mary agreed rising saying, "Papa will you see me home." She strode across the room leaving Tom and Robert stumbling to hurry behind her. Putting her hand on the door know Mary turned facing her husband saying archly, "Please remember Henry I always win." Without further comment she stepped out of the room leaving Tom to close the door behind them and hurry to catch up to.

 **.~.~.~.~.**

As they began descending the stairs Robert cast a glance behind him before huffing, "May I ask the purpose in that near panto performace?"

Mary turned curiously inquiring, "Papa have you ever been to a Panto?"

"Of course not," He said flatly, "And neither have you… Answer the question. "

Mary continued descending the stairs replying, "I cannot reveal all my secrets."

"I do hope you are not game playing," Robert warned putting his hat on.

"Not especially," She promised adding, "But shaking Henry loose is going to require some effort."

"I suppose I shall have to become accustomed to venturing out to barrister's offices." Robert said sounding woebegone at the prospect.

Mary chuckled linking her arm into his as they stepped off the last step and walked toward the front door. "Trust me Papa there is always a purpose in what you view as my madness."

Robert merely sighed as they stepped out on to the street.

 **.~.~.~.~.**

Henry stared at the door for a long moment as if expecting someone to reappear. His shoulders sagged and his entire body seemed to deflate once he realized Mary was not likely to return. Leaning down he reached for his hat announcing, "I believe we are finished."

"Actually," Alexsander demurred pressing, "I believe we have a further issue that must be addressed." He rose and crossed the room toward his desk, gesturing for Henry to take a seat in the straight back chair.

"Such as?" Henry asked tiredly walking over to the chair.

"Financial matters."

"Aha," Henry said frowning, "So with the lady out of the room the vulture descends."

"Is that what you believe this is?" Alexsander said smirking, "The cruel barrister sneaks around the client to upset the husband?"

"Well you certainly didn't mention this when Mary or Robert or even Tom was in the room. So you can see why it seems a bit of a sneak." Henry said taking a seat on the edge of the chair, telegraphing his intent to be gone at the soonest opportunity.

"As a barrister I would never overreach my client's intent." He said coolly, sitting down in his desk chair. "It was Lady Mary's request that I make some inquiries into your finances. And to be frank she was not terribly surprised by my discoveries."

"Mary knew my finances; I made no allusions in that respect." Henry spoke casually, comfortable that he had no cause for concern in this area.

"She knew you had less money than her certainly." Alexsander granted evenly. "In fact from what I've learned you were quite the mope bemoaning your status as husband of a rich lady."

"It wouldn't be a problem you would understand Duke of whateverCrawley.

Alexsander smiled correcting him, "My eldest brother is also styled the duke . My courtesy title is Lord Crawley but I generally go by Mr. Crawley." Throughout the explanation Alexsander maintained the mildest of tones as if he was a university lecturer correcting a factual error.

"And you wouldn't know poverty either."

Alexsander chuckled, "Mr. Talbot I have examined your finances rather closely. You are hardly the artful dodger. You might well have joined the army or the church, or entered a profession and lived comfortably on your inheritance."

"Never took to the church, and working in an office was not for me."

"Nor the military apparently," Alexsander said noting, "Unusual for a man of your age not to serve."

"Flat feet," Henry declared flatly sitting down in the chair.

"Hmm," Alexsander rejoined dubiously. "Before we go any further my client has directed me to make an offer."

"Has she?"

Ignoring Henry's doubtful tone Alexsander continued offering, "If you are willing to provide causes pursuant to a divorcee decree, we are prepared to offer you a generous settlement."

Henry frowned clarifying, "You mean if I slink away quietly, you'll reward me a measly few pounds." He shook his head promising, "As I've said I have no intention of agreeing to a divorce. So your offer is of no interest to me."

Alexsander seemed unsurprised acknowledging, "I expected as much. But understand, I anticipate we will have cause and sooner rather than later."

Seeming revived by Alexsander's words Henry sat up asking, "How is that?"

"You don't seem the sort to adopt a celibate lifestyle." Alexsander observed making no attempt to disguise the brutality of his words. "Prior to your marriage you lived an active bachelor life." Seeing Henry's head pop up Alexsander continued stating, "That life continued until the weekend before your marriage."

Henry frowned insisting, "I did nothing illegal or even particularly immoral. I've kept my vows."

"Thus far," Alexsander granted nodding his head. "But I wonder just how long that will last."

"What a slimy character you are." Henry practically spat the words, staring at the barrister with undisguised hostility.

"Sometimes," Alexsander agreed seeming bemused rather than angered by the accusation, "But I am a perceptive one."

"And what do you perceive? I'm actually curious," He said contemptuously.

Alexsander let a moment pass seeming to consider the question. "A man who has chased or driven if you will a hobby into adulthood," Reaching for a folder he continued, "A man who because he has wealthy friends, has never grappled with the fact he isn't wealthy, and thus ought to take up work."

Henry frowned insisting, "I have a profession."

"A hobby, and a rather expensive one." Alexsander dismissed inquiring, "Precisely how long is the racing car lifestyle going to remain sustainable without Lady Mary's support?"

"I used my own money to purchase my current vehicle and I have sponsors."

Alexsander shrugged observing, "I'd call them supporters. Casual supporters at that," Alexsander insisted glancing down at a spreadsheet. "They've helped you purchase that racing car, and with a repair or two." He acquiesced conceding Henry that point. "But you've been billing Downton for hotels and meals. Downton even footed your club dues, rather generous dues at that." He waited a moment letting his news sink in, before continuing, "What is the precise purpose of a racing club?"

Henry seemed momentarily confused by the question sputtering, "They allow me to communicate with other drivers and meet possible sponsors."

"And apparently an opportunity to drink wine and enjoy multi-course meals," As if preparing for any rejoinder Henry might offer, Alexsander removed several documents from a thick folder. "These are several receipts that were submitted to the Abbey for payment. I believe that is your signature?"

Frowning Henry snapped, "You know very well it is."

"Nice taste in champagne." Alexsander complimented falsely.

"It was a working meal," Henry replied defensively. "I was meeting with an investor."

"Spending a great deal of money impresses investors?" Alexsander placed his hand up advising, "But I digress… We needn't needle over any single bill."

"How charitable of you," Henry said sourly.

 **.~.~.~.~.**

After dropping Robert at his club, Tom and Mary rode across town toward Grantham House. Midway through the trip Mary turned toward Tom asking, "How are you holding up?"

Tom took a moment before questioning, "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"Let's skip that pretense." Mary suggested brusquely. A long silence passed before she said more kindly, "You love him far more than I ever did or could."

"Did you, love him I mean really?"

Mary leaned back against the seat contemplating his question. "No, I don't think so. Not really." She admitted matter of factly. "Certainly not the way I loved Matthew."

"Henry blamed him, you know." Tom said resting back against the seat turning his head and facing her. "He said Matthew always got in the way…You couldn't love him because you could never let go of Matthew."

Mary blinked several times before saying, "I suppose that's true in a way."

"I think it's a load of rubbish." Tom said firmly. "I told him as much."

Mary smiled saying, "Thank you for that."

"Henry got in his own way."

Mary sighed seeming to examine the gray dove gloves in her hands. "Perhaps more than you know."

"Meaning?"

Mary sighed again more dramatically before confessing," Alexsander is confronting Henry with his finances." Seeing Tom frowning, Mary explained, "I suppose the one thing Matthew taught me about running an estate was to watch the expenses." She glanced away saying regretfully, "I was hoping I would be proven a suspicious sort."

"You weren't," Tom said recalling the automobile club, the racing automobile and other costs.

"I asked Alexsander to complete a more thorough review of finances, those related to Henry particularly." Tom nodded his head but made no obvious comment. Mary continued on explaining, "He's going to discuss matters with Henry."

"He's cutting him off."

Mary arched an eyebrow noting, "A rather inelegant way of phrasing it, but yes."

"We could have handled matters," Tom suggested crossing his arms.

"I believe our past history suggests neither of us can handle Henry Talbot, particularly well."

Tom seemed to consider this before granting, "I suppose not."

"Besides Alexsander said the discussion would allow him to get a measure of Henry."

"You trust him? The barrister," He clarified needlessly.

"I don't know that I trust anyone. But I think he is good at his job and that can only benefit us."

"And the fact he's the spitting image of Matthew."

"I was wondering how long it would take you to mention that." Mary shrugged adding, "He's a cousin several times removed so I suppose that explains it."

"And explains why you smile every time you see him."

Mary frowned stating, "Aunt Rosamund is entirely to free with her opinions and stories."

"She's worried for you."

"And you imagine she has reason to be?" Mary lashed out angrily. "I'm not foolish, I know he's not Matthew."

"I just think," Tom started to speak then sat back against the seat growing silent. Mary glanced over curiously but Tom merely sank back against the seat saying, "Nothing."

 **.~.~.~.~.**

Alexsander took his time straightening his papers, stretching out the silence. For his part Henry seemed to be stewing in his own irritation. At last and after a long silence he demanded, "What do you intend to do?"

"I will be contacting the clubs, restaurants and hotels you frequent and advising them that henceforth Downton will not be reimbursing your expenses."

"You think that move necessary?" Henry said sitting up slightly. "I am a gentleman." Alexsander did not immediately reply causing him to inquire, "Is Lady Mary aware of your intentions?"

Alexsander closed the folder he had been examining saying, "Of course."

"Doesn't she think it will look bad, her refusing to foot her husband's minor accounts?"

"I'd imagine Lady Mary will assume it looks bad enough that her husband ever expected her to foot those bills. Indeed," He shared evenly. "I find many times the question is phrased the opposite way… The question would become why did Lady Mary ever feel it was her role to finance her husband's expenses."

"Funny," Henry remarked in a remote tone, clearly surprised. "First the legal action, now this… Mary must be angrier than I imagined." He seemed almost to be talking to himself.

Alexsander waited a moment before informing him, "Unless you have some heretofore unknown financial reserve, you will have to adapt a substantially diminished lifestyle."

"Does Mary want that?"

"As I said we are prepared to make a generous settlement offer."

"No I won't." Henry stood and walked across the room retrieving his hat quietly inquiring, "Are we finished?"

"We are," Alexsander granted, returning his attention to the paperwork on his desk. Henry walked slowly out closing the door behind him.

 **.~.~.~.~.**

The sound of the soft chiming of the grandmother clock reverberated in the drawing room as Robert strode in, stopping short at the sight of his son-in-law standing at the drink cart. Robert was relieved that his wife and daughters had not yet come down for dinner. Atypically he was also glad for a moment alone with Tom.

Glancing up from the whisky he was pouring himself Tom asked, "Shall I pour you one?"

"I don't have your constitution or the stomach," Robert said resentfully. He lifted the water pitcher pouring himself a half-glass and gulping it down. "What do you make of the solicitor?"

"Barrister," Tom corrected him.

"I still don't understand why a solicitor cannot handle the meetings and such." Robert admitted lifting his glass, "It seems Murray could handle this far better than a stranger."

Setting the Whisky bottle aside Tom stated, "I doubt Mary would care for that. She wants her own man. And I wouldn't trust Murray myself."

"Why ever not?"

"Murray has never been even polite to your daughter." The conviction in Tom's tone was something of a surprise to Robert. "Beyond that this is not his field. That might not concern Murray, it would concern me. With an issue like this Mary deserves the very best representation she can get, not a family loyalist who has never been particularly loyal to her."

"Actually he was rather a prude about the whole affair." Robert acknowledged finding he was contemplating his conversation with his solicitor in a wholly different light given Tom's words. "Still I wish we knew this…Alexander better."

"Alexsander," Tom corrected.

"What a bizarre name." Robert retorted sounding cross. "Is it Irish?"

Tom rolled his eyes without responding in any way whatsoever to Robert's question. "Rosamund checked his background, he sounds the right sort."

"She would know," Robert admitted wryly. "And the resemblance to Matthew…You saw it didn't you?"

"Mary had warned me."

"She warned me to but it was uncanny. We'd need to be careful if he was ever at a gathering. It might be a shock to Isobel."

"I doubt he'll be a presence in the family. She would be unlikely to meet him."

"Yes," Robert granted. "As much as he looks like Matthew he isn't like him not really.." Robert said pouring himself another glass of water.

Tom took a sip of his drink, "He couldn't be. Not being a barrister."

"I can hardly imagine Matthew donning wigs and questioning murderers." Robert admitted adding, "I've always found barristers a little unclean. Too close to criminals to remain untouched."

Tom smirked observing, "I believe you felt the same about journalists."

"Well tell me why would a gentleman want to spend his days prowling around courtrooms with murders, thieves and convicts?"

"Because," Tom replied cheekily, "Those are the most interesting sort of people."

Robert shook his head saying, "Matthew must not have felt the same."

Tom shrugged saying, "I just think his mind ran another way."

"You know," Robert said tiredly sagging against the cart as if all energy had drained from his body. "Sitting there today watching this man who looked like Matthew but was in no way acting like Matthew," Robert sighed, "I suddenly realized how very much I miss that young man." He walked over to the sofa sitting down. "Watching that young man I just missed Matthew."

Tom smiled sharing, "All I could think is how odd it was watching the twin of Mary's former husband trying to end her marriage to her current husband. "He took a sip of his whisky muttering, "Funny world."

 **.~.~.~.~.**

"Lady Mary Crawley," Davis announced leading Mary into a small study in the back of a Mayfair house.

Alexsander who had been busily lining up a set of dominos atop and across the width of his desk, looked up sounding slightly abashed, "This is a surprise."

"I wanted to speak with you."

"May I offer you something?" He asked glancing over at the bottles lined up on a side table, "I have some blackberry brandy which is surprisingly good. Or I can have Davis open a bottle of red wine if you'd rather."

"No thank you, I won't interrupt any dinner plans you have."

Alexsander chuckled saying, "I'm afraid my dinner plans involved some soup an hour or so ago."

"Then I won't interrupt your work." She said glancing over pointedly at the dominos lined up along his desk seeming bemused at this activity.

Alexsander grinned amiably rationalizing his interest by stating, "Strategy construction of another sort."

"I see," Mary said walking over to take a seat on the couch he gestured toward.

"I wanted to telephone you this evening but I remembered you mentioning your family's dinners were late so…" He let the sentiment drift off without further clarification as he took a seat in the chair nearest the sofa. Propping one ankle atop his knee Alexsander observed, "Your husband is a very interesting man. Not precisely what I expected."

"Really," Mary's smile was enigmatic but her tone suggested genuine curiosity. "Dare I ask what you expected? Cloven feet and horns atop his head?"

Well," He said reaching for his brandy glass which he had sat on a side table. "A few of my clients have produced drawings of their spouses with those very details." Mary chuckled lightly; Alexsander took a sip of his drink before continuing, "A bit more wit, certainly more caddishness."

"You make him sound like an elderly loyal dog."

"I do not mean to," He offered seeming cautious in his words.

"I suppose he is in a way," She granted evenly seeming to have considered the comparison. "But he has a controlling side. Don't underestimate it."

The statement caused Alexsander to lean forward, "Do you think he will try to harm you? If so…."

Mary shook her head saying, "I just believe he will make this divorce complex."

"Well that's what I'm here for." Alexsander promised firmly.

"I did tell you he was not unfaithful." Mary felt no shyness about pointing out her correctness on that regard.

"So you did. And thus far he has been so." Before Mary could question his words Alexsander continued, "You may find his fidelity challenged."

"Well I suppose if I am to get my petition I must begin to hope so."

Alexsander took a sip of brandy saying, "He's going to need sponsors to continue his hobby."

"And you think desperate women will sponsor him."

"There are any number of well off younger women and more desperate divorcees who seem to revel in such cases." He shook his head continuing, "A surprising and rather lucrative section of my practice involves setting up allowances for such men."

"Your female clients retain you to distribute funds to their paramours?"

"I find that I enjoy making spread sheets and constructing financial plans… Surprising really…"

"How did Henry respond to the new expectations?"

"Is that what they call it now?" Alexsander questioned even as his lips quirked upward disarmingly. More seriously he added, "By the time he left Mr. Talbot seemed rather lost."

"I would not want to humiliate him." She had been firm about that in all their discussions.

"Of course not."

"But nor do I believe it is my responsibility to finance his career."

"Particularly when it's a career you detest." He granted smoothly.

Mary angled her head observing him stating, "You are very good at that?"

"At what?"

Feeling no need to indulge in false dramatics she merely replied, "Proving the answer you know that your client wants."

"Am I?" He said sounding pleased she had recognized his habit.

"Very good."

He shrugged amiably, "All for the good of business. I'm sure you understand."

"Better than you might imagine." Mary conceded reflecting on some of her early encounters with tenant farmers.

"I must admit your notion of interrupting the meeting was superb." Alexsander complimented stretching out his legs seeming ever more at ease. "Your impulse to push in turned out to be exactly right."

Hearing those words Mary felt her entire body go instantly rigid. Her mind tumbled trying to make sense of his words, to see if this was a link. As he remained silent she decided to gently prompt him confessing, "I do like to push in." Even as she spoke she found herself staring at Alexsander willing him to respond .

Alexsander however betrayed neither surprise nor knowledge of her meaning. He simply smiled in the easy, pleasant way she was beginning to know as his typical demeanor.

After a moment Mary shook her head as if trying to dispel her mood. Deciding to change the subject she admitted, "I was surprised you were willing to try my plan."

"You are the client."

"If you thought it a bad idea…."

"I thought it a quite exceptional notion, one I wish I might have grasped upon myself."

Mary glanced down demurring, "Well it was your notion that I should so quickly leave. And apparently it was the right decision."

Alexsander thought a moment before affirming, "I believe so." Seemingly slightly cautious he added, "He's not going to be an easy one. But today was a start."

"Yes," Mary agreed relieved he'd seen the situation as she did. Mary smiled slyly stating, "I may have some other ideas. One in particular," She said half teasingly. The plan was only in the early stages but she was already curious to see what Alexsander would make of it. "But I shant tell you just yet."

"I see." He sounded slightly disappointed but added brightly, "Then I shall look forward to seeing what scheme you next create."

"You'd best be careful," She warned him lightly. "My powers unleased can terrify even me."

"I am a pilot and quite adept at holding my own in the stormiest of skies." His retort was so playful yet filled with a strange assurance, allowing her to relax. Fixing Alexsander with an enigmatic expression, Mary elevated a single eyebrow. Seeming to view her reticence as something of a challenge he grinned confiding, "And sometimes I like to sail straight into a stormy sky."

Mary found his lightness a soothing balm and her smile was nearly serene as she confided, "I have the same inclination myself."

 **.~.~.~.~.**

 _"Slow down Henry," Tom beseeched his friend desperately as Henry's car bounced down a lane. "We've got plenty of time!" He reminded him alarmed at how fast the landscape was flying past them. Looking over Tom saw the speedometer pressing near sixty._

" _My bride is waiting!" Henry rejoined cheerfully, and Tom half wondered if he'd heard a word he said._

" _You're going too fast." Even as he spoke Tom saw a green car topping the hill, and he recognized a familiar blonde head glancing distractedly around the countryside. His wide happy grin hinting at a gleeful reason for his distraction…. "Slow down!" Tom demanded suddenly aware of the surroundings. "Slow down." He roared turning toward Henry and finding his morning suit replaced, and Henry suddenly costumed in his racing outfit_

" _Not a chance," Henry responded, pressing the pedal and chuckling with almost maniacal glee._

" _You're going to run into him."_

" _That's the idea," Henry promised smiling._

 _Glancing at the floorboard, Tom saw the gas pedal was pressed all the way down. "You'll kill him!" Tom warned feeling almost nauseous with fear. And even as he said it, it was happening. And Tom saw every bit of it. The cars slamming into one another… the glass from the wind screens shattering and spewing up into the air, the steel meeting, bending, collapsing… Tom felt his body being pressed forward and felt the car slamming into him, sucking every ounce of air from his lungs. This, he thought, was the last thing Matthew must have felt. And Sybbie, Sybil, his Ma, his brothers, Mary, Cora, and Edith all floated in his mind. Then he felt only blackness and the sense of falling and falling._

 _Then suddenly he was standing some feet away. Standing on his own two feet with neither bruise nor scratch. Only a few feet away he saw the smoke coming from the remains of the cars. Forcing his feet forward, he began running toward the vehicles._

 _Approaching the green car, Tom saw it had flipped. Glancing downward he saw the vehicle had landed atop Matthew. "Had he lived he would never have walked again," Clarkston had said at the time as if that was supposed to comfort them. Still he had thought if he could lift the car maybe… after all Mary would have loved Matthew paralyzed or not. Matthew could have held George. George would have had a real father. But stepping closer to the car he saw it was no use. Matthew's eyes were open and glazed over, past all seeing._

 _Not wanting to waste time he ran to the red car. Blood was running out of Henry's head and pooling in the grass. Henry's face was gray. If Matthew resided in a country beyond the living, then Henry was not far from that land's borders. Still Henry croaked, "Is he?"_

" _Yes."_

" _Good," Henry said swallowing hard and forcing a smile._

" _Good?" Tom heard himself repeating the word._

" _He needs to die…stay dead."_

" _He is…" Tom said lifelessly._

" _No." Henry said his voice sounding weaker. "I keep on killing and killing him and then every morning he's still alive."_

" _What?" Tom questioned incredulously._

 _Henry took a labored breath before saying, "Every day I try to kill him, I try to love her, try to make a life with her, I impregnated her and even that didn't kill him." He gasped almost spitting out, "I go on killing and killing him and he goes on surviving. Now he's killed me." His body jerked and spasmed and then with a grunt his eyes opened and his entire body dropped to the ground._

And then Tom woke up.

 **.~.~.~.~.**


End file.
